


Halcyon Days

by Rand0mSmil3z



Series: Reunion Cycle [1]
Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Rewrite, Canon Rewrite with a Twist, Canon-Typical Violence, Cloud Strife Needs a Hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Happy Ending, Minor Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Zack Fair, Relationships mostly canon, Romance, Series is planned until the end of FF7 / FF7R, Slow Burn, Their Love Is Requited They're Just Dumb, Trauma Recovery, Zack Fair Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:01:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 196,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24601267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rand0mSmil3z/pseuds/Rand0mSmil3z
Summary: The story of FF7 if Zack lived.Shortly after being ambushed outside of Midgar, Zack and Cloud were separated: Zack remained under Turk care, while Cloud - confused from mako poisoning - went missing somewhere on the streets of Midgar. Now Zack has to somehow find his best friend before Shinra and Hojo can, not to mention that he has to stay under the radar himself - but with the Turks keeping secrets from him, and with so many reminders of his previous four years of being a lab experiment, staying anonymous is becoming more and more difficult.Meanwhile, Cloud has literally stumbled into Tifa's care. Given his mako-enhanced eyes, it doesn't take long for him to be recruited into Avalanche... but it's quickly becoming apparent that he's not the strong, sturdy SOLDIER that he'd like everyone to think. His memories are disjointed and his mind feels foggy, to the point that it becomes difficult to tell what's real and what's not. But Tifa needs him. He made a promise to her after all, and he intends to keep that promise... no matter what it takes.
Relationships: Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife, Zack Fair/Aerith Gainsborough
Series: Reunion Cycle [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1897087
Comments: 506
Kudos: 446





	1. Rain and Mud

It was raining. Every drop of rain hit the young infantryman like a knife; like a thousand tiny, icy knives that slid down his chilled skin and soaked into his borrowed SOLDIER's uniform. But he hardly noticed. His limp hand twitched in the mud and his blond eyelashes fluttered, but his expression – or rather, his lack of expression – did not change. If he had not been hidden behind the rocky outcropping, the infantry unit on the other side of the stones could have assumed that he was dying.

They wouldn’t have even been that wrong.

Gunfire echoed in the distance.

The sounds bounced across the canyon walls and melted into the rain. It created a symphony of sorts, a tragic duet. The haunting melody was punctuated by screams and the sounds of dying men. The hiss of a metal blade. The pop of gunshots. Then faint sighs, like kisses beneath the summer sun, as bodies disintegrated into green fragments and faded back into the Lifestream.

But then the gunshots slowed and eventually came to a stop. The sounds of shouting quieted, until all that could be heard was the steady drumming of rain. The distant crack of thunder. The splash of raindrops hitting the mud. The infantryman shivered as icy water trickled into his black turtleneck and down his bare arms, but if he was aware of the cold, of the damp, then he gave no indication.

Moments later, the sounds of footsteps flickered across his consciousness. The steps were heavy and uneven, as if walking with a limp, before coming to a stop in front of him. There was a pained grunt and rustling fabric, and someone knelt down in front of him. Then a hand was ruffling his hair, a gesture so familiar and comforting that it brought tears to his eyes, though he did not know why.

“H – Hey, Cloud.” A finger brushed against his cheek, catching a tear that escaped. “Sorry for... worrying you.”

The infantryman – no, Cloud – inhaled a shuddering breath. A memory flashed through his mind; an indistinct face watching him through green-tinged liquid, the metallic taste of mako, the hiss as the pod emptied and he collapsed into a pair of waiting arms...

Cloud’s fingers trembled in the mud. “Za… Zack...”

The man, Zack, went still for a moment. So still that he could have passed for a statue, and though he quickly smiled, it was a brittle and broken – almost as if he was about to cry. “Yeah buddy. That’s right, that’s me.” He thickly swallowed. “Let’s… let’s get out of the rain, okay?”

Cloud gave no indication that he heard. All he knew is that he was safe again, that everything was okay. He felt a tug as his arm was pulled over Zack’s shoulder, as well as pressure around his waist as Zack tightened his hold.

“Ready, Spikey?” Zack asked, but didn’t seem to be expecting an answer. He simply shrugged a bit, as if pulling Cloud into a more comfortable position, before continuing, “We’re almost there.” There was a crunch of gravel as he took a shaky step forward, and then another. “We’re almost there...”

Ex-SOLIDER First Class, Zackary Fair, could not believe he was alive. He certainly shouldn’t be. And as he walked across the Midgar wastes, Cloud limp against him, he couldn’t help but run a hand along his chest. At the holes in his uniform. At the bloodstains that were already beginning to dry beneath a suddenly sunny sky.

He shakily inhaled and tried to focus on his footsteps, his breathing. Every jostle sent pain rippling up and down his body, and it wasn’t difficult to imagine how many bullets were still embedded in his skin, and how many made it clean through. Which brought him to his original thought: He shouldn’t be alive.

Whatever Hojo, that son-of-a-bitch, did to him, did to his body, it made him stronger. Nearly bulletproof. And it terrified him.

“Don’t worry, Spikey,” he found himself saying. “Almost there. Just a few more miles.”

He wasn’t sure for whose benefit he was even saying that for anymore; Cloud’s, or his own. Maybe a little bit of both.

He still couldn’t believe that Cloud had spoken to him. Had said his name. Hell, Cloud had even _cried_ when Zack came back from fighting Shinra’s army. Zack spared his best friend – no, his brother now – a quick glance, his mako-laced eyes searching for any sort of change, any sort of awareness. But there was nothing there. The same blank, thousand-mile stare. The same broken expression, as if he didn’t want to wake up anymore, that whatever Hojo had done to him was bad enough that he didn’t want to be aware of it anymore.

Zack tore his gaze away and forced himself to continue walking. Yeah, he couldn’t blame Cloud for that. What Hojo had done them both… sometimes, in his weaker moments, he wished he would go comatose too. Maybe then he would finally get a decent night’s sleep.

He shook his head, violently, even as the thought crossed his mind. _Stop thinking like that!_ he ordered himself. He didn’t have time, or the excess energy, to throw himself a pity party. He had Cloud to think of now. And Aerith...

A fresh pang of pain through his chest as he recalled his girlfriend, one that had nothing to do with the bullet holes. For a brief moment, he wondered if she was okay. If she was still selling flowers, and that cart of hers was still broken. And if she was still afraid of the sky…

He shook his head, again. _Don’t think about that either,_ he told himself. _Focus on the mission. I’ll see her soon, but first we have to get to Mid..._

The sounds of a helicopter blurred out his thoughts. Dread pooled deep in his gut as he turned around, already knowing what he would see. A Shinra helicopter. Flying directly towards them.

 _No_. Zack glanced across the landscape but it was flat, barren, dusty. _Oh god, no._ There was nowhere to hide Cloud, nowhere they could escape to. Swallowing a shaky breath, Zack slowly stooped to the ground and lifted Cloud’s arm off of his shoulder, then gently lowered him to the ground. Cloud slumped against him, boneless. Trusting. It made Zack’s chest hurt to look at.

_I failed._

_We’re going back to the lab._

“Sorry, buddy,” he murmured. His throat closed, his eyes burned; the helicopter’s thundering engine drew closer, and he pulled Cloud into a tight hug. Cloud made a faint noise, but it was drowned out by the pounding propellor blades. “I guess…” He squeezed his eyes shut, and managed to continued, “...this is as far as we go.”

* * *

“I have eyes on our targets, over.”

Cissnei leaned back as she slowed the helicopter to begin her final descent. Before her, slumped against the still-damp either, two figures were hunched against each other. Zack she recognized immediately, and he was pulling the younger blond boy in a tight hug. The blond, Cloud, looked the same as she had last seen him. Dazed. Disoriented. His eyes were open, just a little, but he wasn’t seeing anything.

But that was okay. They were alive, both of them, and it was enough to draw a smile on her lips.

 _“What did we tell you?”_ Reno said through the radio. His voice was a hiss of static. _“No matter our mission, we always finish our jobs because...”_

“...We’re the Turks,” Cissnei finished. She pushed her copper hair out of her eyes as the helicopter landed on the brown earth. It was only then did Zack rise – Cloud remained slumped against Zack’s legs, his legs folded beneath him – and draw his Buster Sword, but even Cissnei could tell that the action pained him. The tip of his sword wavered in the air. She could almost hear the metal tremble.

“My coordinates are point 235,” Cissnei announced on her com. “Reno, Rude, please contact Tseng and alert him that we have found the targets. And,” she added, almost as an afterthought, “to please prepare two hospital rooms. They’ll need it.”

 _“Yes, ma’am,”_ came Reno’s easy reply.

 _“Affirmative,”_ Rude quickly followed, and the radio went silent.

Sharply exhaling, Cissnei pulled off the clunky headset and slipped out of the helicopter, her arms lifted as if in surrender. “Zack,” she began.

The dark-haired SOLDIER blinked at her, his sword dropping a few centimeters, before he suddenly raised it again. “We’re not going back,” he announced through gritted teeth. “We won’t.”

“That’s not the purpose of this mission,” Cissnei said, only to internally wince at how formal she sounded. How uptight. This was a rescue mission; she needed to be more comforting than cold. Trying again, she said, “Zack… we’re here to help you. You _and_ Strife.”

“Yeah?” Cissnei could hear the bite in Zack’s voice. “Like how the army tried to help us?”

Cissnei’s eyes widened a fraction. “Army?” she repeated. It was only then did she notice how damaged Zack’s uniform was. The bloodstains. She had initially believed that those were old wounds; they were not bleeding as fresh wounds should, not to mention he was still standing and conscious, but then she noticed the blood pattern against the cloth. How it had been diluted from rain, rain that had passed through this area just a moment ago, and was caked with dirt from the local area.

Just like that, realization slammed through Cissnei. Those were not old wounds. Those were fresh.

“Zack, you need to go to a hospital,” she said, as gently as she could manage.

“I’m not going back to the lab.”

“I know. You and Strife won’t.” Zack’s speech patterns were beginning to give her concern. The way he repeated sentences, his fixation on going back to the lab… perhaps the blood loss had affecting his frontal lobe, and therefore his rational thought. She would have to simplify things for him. Explain things like she would a child. But how?

Sharply inhaling, she tried an entirely different approach. “Did you know,” she began, “that Tseng has been saving letters for you?”

Zack frowned at that. “Letters?”

“Yes.” Cissnei managed a small smile. It hurt to speak of the letters, but she had no choice at this point. “There are eight-eight of them, from that girl in Midgar you are so eager to see.”

Zack’s eyes flew wide. “Aerith?” he managed, only to suddenly stumble. He drove his sword in the ground to keep himself upright, and Cloud – still slouched against his legs – shivered at the sudden sound. “Sorry, Spikey,” Zack murmured, but he didn’t seem to be aware he had said anything at all. His eyes were downcast, pinned at the ground and the mud caked there, without seeing any of it at all. “She… She’s been sending me...”

“For four years,” Cissnei repeated. “Tseng has them, and would like to give them to you.”

“But – But she’s...” Zack shook his head. “She’s in Midgar...”

“Tseng reached out to her. It was… against protocol,” she admitted. “But at the time, we did not know you were the sample. We had thought – We had wanted to find you, Zack. You had disappeared, presumed dead, even though no one believed it.”

“But not Cloud,” Zack murmured. “You didn’t want to find him.”

“We had wanted to find _both_ of you,” Cissnei assured. “Please, Zack. Please let us help you. We’ll take you to the Turk hospital, Tseng will deliver Aerith’s letters, and then will contact Aerith so that she can come see you. See you _healthy_ instead of covered in blood.”

Zack had looked like he had been about to refuse, but her last statement made him pause. He frowned at the earth. “A real hospital?”

“Yes,” Cissnei promised.

“Cloud can’t leave my sight.”

“We can arrange that.”

“And Aerith can come visit?”

“Yes.”

“And Hojo can’t know.” Zack sounded desperate now. More desperate than wanting to see Aerith. “Please, Cissnei. Hojo can’t know. He – He can’t, I can’t go back there, I -”

“He won’t,” Cissnei said. Her voice was like immovable, and carried more strength than her petite frame would suggest. “As far as he’s concerned, you and Strife passed away after running into the army. He will not be happy, but...” She shrugged, and offered Zack a small smile. “I can live with that, if you can.”

After a moment, Zack slowly nodded. “I can,” he said, but then his expression went slack. His vision crossed. Cissnei recognized the look, that dazed expression moments before passing out, and was already running forward as Zack pitched forward.

“I got you,” she breathed as Zack collapsed into her arms.

He was surprisingly heavy.


	2. Letters and Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Lab Flashback

_Cloud was dreaming. Or at least, he hoped he was dreaming, because if he wasn’t and this was actually happening…_

_Leather straps cut deep into his biceps and forearms, pinning his arms in place as similar straps pinned down his legs. His chest heaved as the scalpel hovered over his chest. Reflected in the mirror-like blade was his own wide-eyed, panicked expression and the hooked nose of Professor Hojo, who was scowling at some documents._

_“Bone regrowth is lacking,” Hojo finally announced, “though cellular division of the epidermis is above average. This indicates that the subject is able to quickly repair superficial wounds, while repairing other injuries take a statistically average timeframe.” He then glanced at Cloud, but his gaze didn’t linger on his eyes – like any other human-to-human interaction – but his chest, the area right below the scalpel. Cloud’s breath quickened as Hojo continued, “The current hypothesis is that an injection with Jenova cells will continue to improve the subjects natural cellular repair abilities, while the addition of mako will amplify the Jenova cells’ ability by a factor of two.”_

_“No, don’t -” Cloud tried to say, but there was something in his mouth, preventing him from speaking. He hadn’t noticed it a moment ago but now it was all he could focus on – at how his spit trickled down the corners of his mouth, at how difficult it was to breath past the strap. His jaw ached from keeping it open for so long, and he was vaguely aware that he was beginning to hyperventilate._

_“Quiet, Sample C,” Hojo said. Turning to his assistant, he asked, “Do you have the haloperidol?”_

_“Yes, sir,” the assistant said, and lifted a syringe filled with a clear liquid._

_Cloud’s heart rate quickened, and the machine beside him beeped in rhythm with his beating heart. Without taking notice – or perhaps Hojo simply didn’t care – he reached for the syringe only to place the tip against Cloud’s elbow._

_“D – Don’t,” Cloud tried to say, but he couldn’t speak past the strap in his mouth._

_“Begin the treatment,” Hojo announced, just as he slid the needle in…_

* * *

Zack’s eyes snapped open to the sound of pained gasps. He immediately snapped upright – he knew those gasps, knew them from anywhere – only to crumble back onto the bed, his hands pressed against his chest, at the bullet holes that had been cleaned and bandaged. His breath hissed between his teeth, both in pain and stark confusion, but a more predominant concern overruled whatever he was feeling. He could deal with himself later. Right now, Cloud came first.

“Cloud.” His voice was little more than a rasp as he reached across to the bed beside his. His fingertips brushed against an arm. “Hey, Spikey. Hey. Hey, it’s me. It’s okay.”

Cloud went still at the first touch, only to make a sound deep in his throat – a cross between a cry and a sob.

“Yeah, I know buddy. I know.” Zack tightened his grip on Cloud’s arm; his thin arm, thinner than he remembered it being. Cloud’s cheekbones were also more prominent, his mako-laced eyes more sunken and bruised. His hipbones peaked against covers. “We… should get you something to eat,” Zack added. He tried to keep his tone lighthearted, but worry tightened his throat.

 _What happened to us?_ He shifted his gaze to the ceiling, his hand still holding Cloud’s arm. _Where are we?_

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, he remembered. _Cissnei_. She had found them while he and Cloud had been heading to Midgar. She had promised something… hospitals, he recalled. Treatment. Letters.

His breath hitched.

Letters from Aerith. Eighty-eight of them.

“Hey, Spikey.” Zack thickly swallowed; he couldn’t break down now. Maybe later, but not yet. “Want to go… for a walk?”

Cloud said nothing, as expected. His expression had smoothed over and his tension eased, and soon his breathes steadied and evened as his eyes slowly closed. Zack wasn’t sure what had happened – Cloud hadn’t so much as twitched since they had escaped Hojo’s lab – but whatever it was, Zack couldn’t help but be somewhat relieved. If Cloud could express emotion again… If he could _move_ again… Maybe he was finally waking up.

Zack held onto the thought, held onto that small kernel of hope as tightly as he could. Things were looking up. Things were getting better.

Just as he was forcing himself upright, the door opened. Zack immediately tensed, only to realize that it was Tseng who walked into the room.

“Zack,” Tseng greeted. The Turk’s lips twitched into a smile, only to fade away as he resumed his nonchalant gaze. “I’m glad to see you awake.”

Zack swallowed, noticing just how dry his throat was. “How long… have I been out?”

“Two days.” Tseng placed a small box onto the nightstand. The box was plain, little more than cardboard with a metal clasp holding it shut, but Zack stared at it as if it had been made of diamonds.

“Is that…?”

“Yes.” At that, Tseng actually smiled – a brief smile, but a smile nonetheless. “You had been greatly missed the past four years.”

Zack’s eyes misted over. “Is she…?”

“Aerith is alive and well,” Tseng said, answering Zack’s unspoken question. The hospital bed groaned as he sat down on it, a rare breach of protocol – he had only meant to return the box and leave, after all. “She continues to sell flowers in the slums, and has even started to venture onto the plates themselves.”

Zack traced the box’s edge with his fingers. “Does she…” He wasn’t sure how to say this. “Does she… remember me?”

At that, Tseng slowly stood back up. “Read the letters and find out,” he replied. Zack’s head jerked upright at the cryptic reply, but Tseng’s expression was kind. Gentle, even. Warm.

Zack managed a smile. “You’ve gotten soft.”

“Have I?” Tseng arched a delicate eyebrow, but didn’t bother denying it. “If you or Strife need anything, don’t hesitate to call.” He tapped the buzzer on the nightstand, one that would undoubtedly summon a nurse over if Zack pressed it, in explanation. “In the meantime, rest. Recover. You’re safe from Shinra here.”

“You work for Shinra,” Zack pointed out.

Tseng shrugged. “For the president, perhaps. But not for Hojo.”

Just the mention of that scientist’s name made Zack feel gross. Slimy, and he couldn’t help but cross his arms over his chest. Desperate to change the conversation, he asked, “When can I… um, see Aerith?” Suddenly his eyes widened. “Does she know about...”

“She has been informed that you are alive,” Tseng seamlessly replied. “But not the reason behind your disappearance.”

“I see. Well, that’ll be one hell of a conversation,” Zack joked, but his heart wasn’t in it. If anything, it just hurt.

Tseng nodded. “Perhaps. Now, if you’ll excuse me...”

Tseng left the room, and the door silently swung shut behind him. Zack watched the door for a moment before exhaling and lying back down, his thoughts buzzing, his stomach twisting inside of him.

“Oh man, Spikey,” he said, glancing at his unconscious friend. “What are we gonna do?”

* * *

_Green-tinged bubbles shivered to the top of the mako pod. The world beyond the glass was hazy, indistinct, warped, and though Cloud could make out shapes shifting beyond the glass, he struggled to make out the details. A white lab coat here. A tray full of syringes and beakers in another. Zack, floating in the tube beside him, tapping the glass in a familiar pattern._

U – O – K? _the pattern read._

_Cloud tried to lift his hand to reply, but his arm ignored his request. Mako, thick and warm, pressed against his body. It seeped into his skin, already blistered and burned from their previous mako treatment, and he felt lightheaded. Sick. His stomach suddenly rolled and he closed his eyes against it, fought to keep the sudden nausea under control. He had thrown up in the mako pod once. It had been awful… but it wasn’t the worst thing that had happened in the lab._

_More tapping, a little more insistent now._ U – O – K?

 _Cloud squinted his eyes open and blinked, twice._ Yes.

 _Though he couldn’t see it, Zack thinly smiled. Bubbles sifted through his fingers as he tapped out,_ L – I – A – R.

_Cloud managed to grin at that, though it was more like a grimace. Was it that obvious? He blinked once – No, he was not lying – and closed his eyes again as his stomach flipped… then seized. His hands moved on their own accord and slammed against his mouth, bruising his lips, preventing the bile from escaping. The taste of acid and copper flooded his mouth, and he choked it back. He couldn’t throw up. Not again. Hojo had been furious the first time it happened, and Cloud didn’t want to experience the punishment again -_

_As if on cue, a shadow appeared in front of his pod. Cloud knew who it was without looking his eyes, and the knowledge made his stomach clench. He seized, again, his temple bouncing against the glass walls. Bubbles, furious, clawed their way to the top. Vomit seeped past his interlocked fingers. It was creamy and grey – the broth they had been given for breakfast – and starkly contrasted with the thick green liquid he was encased in._

_“Again, sample C?”_

_The words were indistinct, warped, but pierced Cloud like a dagger. Hojo was back._

_“What are we going to do with you?” Hojo continued, before he turned to his assistant. “Drag him out.”_

_Cloud shook his head, but it only caused more vomit to escape. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want this, he couldn’t do this again, it would kill him. It would actually kill him._

_From the pod beside him, he heard Zack pounding on the glass. Bubbles hissed through the mako as Zack shouted something, but Cloud could no longer hear. His ears were ringing. Ringing like there was something in his head, pounding against the walls of his skull, and his eyes fluttered closed._

_For that he was grateful. If he was lucky… maybe he would stay unconscious for the entire procedure._

* * *

Zack wasn’t sure when he had closed his eyes. The last thing he remembered was opening up the box of Aerith’s letters, but then when he actually saw all eighty eight laid out… when he saw her delicate handwriting spelling out his name…

He lost it. He was grateful that the doors were closed and that Cloud was passed out, because he folded in on himself and began to sob. Great, body-wracking sobs that sounded as if they had been dragged out of his lungs with hooks. It was painful. It hurt, and every tear felt like he was being shot with another bullet, until all that was left of him was great, shuddering breaths and the taste of salt on his tongue.

When he finally composed himself, his eyes swollen and rimmed with red, he slowly closed the box. He wanted to read the letters – _god_ , did he want to read them – but he couldn’t. His hands were shaking, he felt like he had just swallowed barbed wire, and he was afraid. Afraid of what was in those letters. Afraid of getting his hopes up.

Swearing that he would read them after a good rest, he wiped his eyes and glanced back at Cloud. Cloud looked like he was having another nightmare. Small, choked sounds slipped past his chapped lips and his eyes danced behind his closed eyes. Every once in a while his fingers would twitch, as if trying to tap on glass…

A memory surged within Zack then, bright and bitter, and he quickly wiped away another tear that escaped. Sniffling a bit, he murmured, “Scoot over,” and squeezed himself into Cloud’s bed. The bed was not made for two people, let alone two fully grown men, but Zack made it work. He slipped his arm beneath Cloud’s head and, rolling Cloud over onto his side, pressed the smaller blond into his chest.

Cloud’s breathes hitched and he squirmed, as if trying to get away, when he suddenly stilled. It was as if he knew Zack was close, because his breathing calmed. To Zack’s shock, Cloud was even strong enough to drag a hand upward and wrap his small hand in Zack’s shirt. It was a strong grip, too – though Zack tried to pry Cloud’s boney fingers off, Cloud unconsciously tightened his grip and refused to let go.

So Zack gave up – he should be relieved that Cloud was growing stronger, even if he still wasn’t awake – and instead wrapped his arms around Cloud and pulled the smaller blond tight against him. He felt Cloud’s thin chest rise and fall against his own, and tried to think positive thoughts, like how he wasn’t dead and that Cloud would finally get treatment for mako poisoning, instead of the darker thoughts. Like how Zack could feel every single one of Cloud’s ribs press against his chest. Or how fragile Cloud’s breathing seemed, how delicate, like the lightest shove could shatter him like glass.

Zack’s hug eased at that.

“Don’t worry, Cloud,” Zack murmured, pressing his lips against Cloud’s spiky, mussed hair. “I’ll protect you.”

As if Cloud heard, his vice grip on Zack’s shirt lessened… but only slightly.


	3. Secret Meetings and Memories

The streetlight flickered to life outside of Seventh Heaven, a small bar nestled in the Midgar slums. Compared to the dilapidated buildings surrounding it, it was sweet. Quaint, even, with all the comforts of a home half-remembered. Lights were strung across the main doorway and their warm glow kissed the porch beneath them, the staircase beyond that, to dirt road meandering out front. Twangy music and the sound of pouring glasses strummed through the front door. It was a warm sound, inviting in all the right ways.

Tifa smiled to another patron as she poured another drink, something colorful and strong, before sliding it to the man sitting in front of her. “Thirty gil,” she told him, but was already turning towards her next customer before the sweet clink of gil hit the counter.

The bar was busy. Just the way Tifa liked it, and not just for the gil busy nights like these brought in. She loved the company. The conversation, the stories, all wrapped up in the acoustic music that reminded her of home. But only the good parts of home, like a certain blond-haired boy and the stars above them. And not… the rest of it.

Her hand tightened on a glass, nearly shattering it, when the bell by the front door jingled. Tifa instinctively smoothed her expression and welcomed whoever walked in as she brought food to another table. The food wasn’t much – this was a bar, after all – but the grateful faces eased something in her. They murmured their thanks as she dropped off the chips and returned to their conversation, something about Wutai, something else about Shinra.

_Shinra._

Anger flashed through her, quick and hot, and she impatiently pushed her dark hair out of her eyes. But she was grateful for the anger. For a moment, she had forgotten why she was here. Why working as a bartender at Seventh Heaven was only a side gig.

As if summoned by her thoughts, a tall, dark man passed by her on his way to the back. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, but there was no mistaking that characteristic glower. Nor could she ignore the massive gun he used as an arm, which earned more than a few pointed stares from nearby customers. But they were used to it by now.

“Teef, close up early,” Barret Wallace said as he walked by. “We got somethin’ to discuss.” He shot her a look. “You know. Avalanche business.”

Tifa involuntarily tensed even as she nodded. The fire in her chest faded into something harder, something colder, but she never stopped smiling. Never stopped serving her customers, never failed to make them feel welcome on this warm, muggy night.

But when the last customer left, or Barret shooed them out the door, Tifa had already started wiping down the counter. Even after Barret had already headed into the basement to wait for the rest of the Avalanche members. Tifa… needed a moment. Though she had attended nearly all of the Avalanche meetings, she still had to prepare herself.

The chime of a bell dragged her attention upward, just in time to see a woman walk through the door. A red band pulled the woman’s hair out of her eyes as she glanced around the room, scowling, before her copper gaze landed on Tifa. Her lips, red and full, pulled into a smile.

“Barret working you to the bone, huh?” Jessie said as she walked towards the counter. Well, more like sauntered to the counter. Jessie had been born and raised for the stage, and though plans changed – plans always changed, Tifa knew – Jessie never failed to look like she was walking down some red carpet.

Tifa shrugged, smiling to herself as she scrubbed a particularly stubborn stain. “I enjoy it,” she said simply.

Jessie laughed. “That’s good,” she said. “I get’a feeling we’ll be using the bar more and more. Is Barret already down?”

Tifa sighed. “Take a wild guess.”

“Always in a hurry,” she said with another laugh, and made her way to the pinball machine in the corner. It was an old thing, completely forgettable at first glance – Tifa wasn’t even sure that it still worked – but that was the entire point, now wasn’t it. To be inconspicuous. “See you in a bit,” Jessie continued as she stood in front of it and pulled the lever.

There was a hiss of steam and gears began to grind, a horrible sound that set Tifa’s teeth on edge. Then the floor beneath Jessie shuddered and began to descend. Jessie waved goodbye until she vanished beneath the floor, and all went silent again.

Tifa sighed, giving up on the stain and moving onto a dirty glass. She didn’t think she would ever get used to that.

Then the door jingled again. “Just missed her, Biggs,” Tifa said without looking up.

The man, also wearing a red band over his forehead, scowled even as the corners of his lips twitched into a smile. “Damn, she’s quick,” he said. He scratched his hair with a gloved hand. “I thought I’d be the first one today.”

“Next time,” Tifa grinned. “Barret’s down there too.”

Biggs sighed. “So I’m not second, but third?”

“Pretty much.”

“Lovely.” Biggs moved to the pinball machine. “I’ll see you down there?”

Tifa nodded. “See you in a bit.” Biggs grinned and pulled the level, and he too disappeared beneath the floorboards.

Before Tifa could begin wiping down the glass, the door jingled again. She glanced up just in time to see Wedge kick the door open, a pastry box in his hands. “Heya, Teef,” the bigger man said cheerfully as he shuffled inside, but not before kicking the door closed behind him. “Wanna donut?”

Tifa’s eyes widened. A donut? “Where did you get those?”

“My neighbor,” Wedge grinned.

“The older one? Or the couple?”

“Older one.” Wedge sat down on the counter in front of her and opened the box. Any dreary thoughts from the day fled Tifa’s mind as her eyes flicked across the glazed pastry puffs – or at least, the few that remained after Wedge’s walk to the bar. The lights above made their sweet glaze shine. And god, they were still warm. Tifa hardly could pay attention to Wedge as he continued, “So I had been watching her cat, right? And she was so grateful that she got her daughter to bring her some donuts from the upper plate. Except she brought too much, you get me?”

Tifa selected a smaller one – she didn’t want to seem greedy, after all. The pastry was warm and sticky in her fingers, and she nearly sighed from pleasure. “I get you.”

“So like, of _course_ she couldn’t eat all of the donuts by herself, right? And because I did such a good job watching her cat, she decided to give me a box.” Wedge grinned, clearly pleased with himself as he helped himself to another donut. “A whole box, Tifa. Just the fuel I need for our mission.” Suddenly his eyes widened. “Uh, speaking of missions and all, am I the first one?” His face lit up. “Am I finally first.”

Tifa laughed, recalling what Biggs had said. “No, technically Barret was today. Jessie was second, Biggs was third.”

“Even Biggs got here before me?” Wedge’s expression fell. “I’m never going to hear the end of it.”

“Well if you hurry, you may just beat me,” Tifa teased. She held up the rag and cup, which was just beginning to sparkle. “I have a few more glasses to clean before I can quit.”

“Oh man. Thanks Teef.” Wedge pushed himself off of the barstool and hurried to the pinball machine, the box cradled in his arms like a child. “I owe you one.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tifa said, waving him off. Wedge grinned to her as he pulled the level and he, too, disappear into the floor.

Tifa cleaned the last of the glasses, no longer distracted, before also heading to the pinball machine. The floor shuddered beneath her as she braced herself and pulled the lever. There was a moan of metal, a jolt, and suddenly the cheery lights of the bar faded as she descended into the basement. The smell of fried food and acidic alcohol was replaced by dust and musk.

Seventh Heaven’s basement was small and dingy, but that was okay. She secretly thought that it was cozy. There were only a few tables and chairs – leftovers from when the bar had first been constructed, as well as a white board pressed against the wall. But there were other things too, like old paintings that didn’t fit the bar’s theme. An old bed pushed against the side. Boxes filled with teacups, antique forks, coffee-stained books.

 _One of these days,_ Tifa thought as she stepped off the elevator, _I’m going to have to clean things down here._

As she already knew, she was the last to arrive. Barret stood in front of the board, his fingers pinched around a marker. Jessie, Biggs, and Wedge sat in the table in front of them, looking somewhat interested.

“Tifa!” Barret called, waving his gun-arm at her. Its metal gleamed beneath the dim light. “You’re late.”

“The dishes weren’t going to clean themselves,” was her reply as she took a seat beside Jessie, who had shifted to make room for her. The older girl’s eyes sparkled as she held up a donut, and Tifa only shook her head no – she had already had one. “So,” Tifa continued, turning her attention back to Barret. “Where did you guys leave off?”

“We were at the part where Barret plants the bomb and blows the reactor to hell,” Biggs replied.

Barret smiled, toothy and almost feral. “Damn straight.”

“Really?” Tifa flicked her eyes to the board, where Barret had drawn a crude representation of Sector 5’s mako reactor. “We’re actually going to blow it up?”

“Of course, Tifa!” Barret’s voice rose an octave. “Those Shinra bastards are killing the planet, and those reactors are doing all of th’ dirty work! You gonna just let them continue dredging up the Planet’s lifeblood? Gonna let the planet continue cryin’ out in pain?”

Tifa glanced to Jessie, who only returned her expression with a pained smile. Even Biggs and Wedge shot her sympathetic glances. When Barret got like this… well, simply put, there was just no stopping him.

“Of course not,” Tifa finally replied. She knew what she was signing up for when she joined Avalanche. She knew this would be part of the gig. “When… When do we start?”

“As soon as I finish the bomb,” Jessie replied, licking her fingers of icing. “Not as easy as it sounds, believe me.”

“And as soon as I finish gathering intel,” Biggs added. He leaned forward, his fingers interlocked beneath his chin. “We’re almost there – maybe a few more days. Need to map out our path to the reactor core.”

Barret scowled. “A few days? That’s too damn long!” But after a pause, he rubbed the back of his head and continued, “Ah! Whatever. Jus’ make damn sure that the intel is accurate, ya here me? Lives are on the line here!”

Biggs grinned. “Of course. My intel is always accurate.”

“Hell yeah it is,” Jessie grinned. “Shinra won’t even know what hit them!”

Tifa grinned at their enthusiasm, but at the same time, something shifted inside of her. Her gaze dragged back to Barret’s drawing of the mako reactor; at its dark walls, its emerald-green pillars of spewing mako, the bright burst of red from an explosion. She wanted to deal a major blow to Shirna. She wanted to blow Shinra all the way to hell.

But was this - blowing up the reactor, and potentially harming everyone below it – the best way to do that? God, what if people _died_?

Tifa lowered her head, and her hair shifted to cover her bright, wine-colored eyes. Suddenly, the basement wasn’t so cozy. It was suffocating.


	4. Promises and Flowers

September 20th – Two Days Before the Nibelheim Incident

_Dear Zack,_

_How have you been?_

_With you gone, things are pretty quiet here. I’ve been going to the church everyday to tend the flowers. Even though the weather’s starting to get cold, the flowers are so strong. They’re growing, blooming, and will be ready to sell soon. Maybe I’ll even try going to the upper plate to sell this time! Can’t be afraid of the sky forever, right?_

_But how about you? Last we spoke, you mentioned that you’ve been assigned a mission with Sephiroth. Where will you be going? Are you excited? Please stay safe – and when you’re done, maybe you can visit? You did promise me you’ll fix my cart, after all. I hope you haven’t forgotten!_

_Always thinking of you,_

_Aerith_

* * *

Present Day

Zack reread the letter, the first of eighty-eight, before gently folding it back into its box. His heart stammered in his chest. It was only one letter, but he felt drunk on her words, her thoughts, her worry for him. For the first time in a long time, he felt something in the realm of good. A good nights sleep, the first in what could have easily been four years, had certainly helped.

_Speaking of sleep..._

He glanced at Cloud, who was still lying on the bed beside him. Now that he was bathed in the morning light, Cloud looked more ghost than man – thin, pale, his breaths faint and nearly nonexistent as he gazed at the ceiling with half-lidded, dazed eyes. Zack’s warm feeling faded slightly. If he leaned closer, he could see the mako in Cloud’s sightless gaze. At how the green mingled with the blond’s natural blue and pulsed in rhythm with his quiet heart. It wasn’t right. Unnatural even, and to make things worse, there was no improvement from yesterday. But Zack felt optimistic. Call it a feeling, call it intuition, but he knew that things would get better.

Though after what they had gone through, pretty much _anything_ was better.

A sudden knock on the door altered him to another presence, and to his credit, he didn’t jump or flinch from the noise. Moments later the door opened, and a nurse stepped into the room with a trolley full of medical equipment. Zack instinctively tensed at the sight of it.

Seeing his discomfort, the nurse offered him a kind, gentle smile. “Don’t worry,” she reassured him. “Most of this stuff isn’t for you.”

Somewhere between her smile and her sentence, it occurred to Zack that no one had smiled at him like that in four years. The thought was instantly sobering. “I’m not worried,” he said.

“Of course you aren’t.” She spoke to him like she was speaking to a child, which irked him, but it wasn’t like he wasn’t used to it. When he was still Angeal’s Puppy, everyone treated him like a child. Never mind that he was a SOLDIER. “Anyway,” the nurse continued, “don’t mind me. I’m just here to change your bandages and make sure that Cloud is comfortable. And then I’ll leave you two alone.”

Zack arched an eyebrow. Leave, just like that? That didn’t seem right. Cloud needed more than comfort. He needed treatment, something that would make him better, something to wake him up from whatever dreams he currently wandered. He needed… _more_.

“Like, this isn’t my area of expertise, but…” Zack shook his head. “Shouldn’t you be treating his mako poisoning, or something?”

The nurse’s smile shifted until it was a little sad – and was that pity in her gaze? - and she gently set the roll of bandages back onto the cart. “Zackary,” she began, “you need to understand that Cloud has one of the most severe cases of mako poisoning that we have ever seen. By all rights, most people would already be dead.”

_Dead?_ “But Cloud isn’t most people.” Zack felt panic warp his words, make them sharper, a little more pitched. “He – He killed Sephiroth as an infantryman, something that even I couldn’t even do as a SOLDIER. And I don’t know how, but -”

“Zackary, please don’t misunderstand,” the nurse said, effectively cutting him off. Her voice took a new tone to it, something a little stronger. “We’re going to do everything we can to make sure he recovers. And right now, that just means making him comfortable and wait for him to wake up on his own.”

Zack leaned forward. “But -”

“And he will wake up, Zack,” the nurse continued. Zack vaguely noted that she used his nickname, but it didn’t seem important as she placed a hand on his shoulder. He could feel the warmth through his cotton shirt, and she added, “Don’t lose hope. These things have a way of working on, and when it is over, you’ll look back and wonder why you ever worried in the first place.” She smiled at him, again. “And don’t forget… because you had taken such good care of Cloud on the way here, that Cloud now has a fighting chance. You saved him.”

_You saved him._

Those three little words broke something in him. Broke and burned and splintered, and he tore his gaze away even as his throat tightened and eyes stung with unshed tears. He could still remember Angeal’s parting words – _I don’t need such a pathetic SOLDIER_ \- as he turned away, leaving him alone in Hojo’s mako pod with nothing but guilt and the acidic taste of mako in his mouth. He had dreamed those words so many damn times. Sometimes, even if he wasn’t dreaming, he could hear those words ringing in his ears.

“Thank you,” Zack managed. And he meant it. He really, really meant it. “That means a lot.”

* * *

_“You said that you wanted to talk to me about something?”_

_Tifa’s voice snapped Cloud out of his thoughts as she sat beside him on Nibelheim’s water tower. Her blue dress fanned over her thighs as she kicked her legs out beneath her, and her wine-colored eyes inquisitive and wondering as she watched him. Cloud was suddenly unsure. He had called her out here after all, but he wasn’t really sure what to do now that she was here._

_“Well, I...” Cloud thickly swallowed and balled his hands on his lap – hands that were somewhere between a child and a man. Everything that he had wanted to say, everything that he had wanted to tell her… the moment she looked at him, it all faded from his mind. Damn it. Why couldn’t he do anything right? “Well, come this Spring…” He cleared his throat. “I’m, um, leaving town for Midgar.”_

_Tifa turned back to the distant horizon, her lips pursed in a pout. “All of the boys are leaving town.”_

_“Yeah, well, I’m different from them.” He raised his gaze so that the stars were reflected in the blue of his eyes. “I’m going join SOLDIER. One even greater than Sephiroth.”_

_“Sephiroth?” Tifa turned to her scowl back to him. “Like, the Great Sephiroth?” When Cloud didn’t respond – truth be told, he wasn’t sure how to – she changed subjects. “Isn’t it hard to join SOLDIER?”_

_Cloud’s fists tightened in his lap. It was difficult. Notoriously difficult, and the mere thought of SOLDIER exam made his stomach clench with anxiety. But… But if that meant he had a chance…_

_He glanced at her, an apologetic smile curving his lips before even that slipped away. “I… probably won’t be able to come back home for a while,” he admitted._

_Tifa watched him for a moment, at how serious his expression was, before turning away giggling. Cloud scowled at that. Was what he said really that funny? Was she making fun of hi-_

_“If you make it,” she said, and her grin short-circuited his thoughts, “will you be in the newspapers?”_

_He blinked in surprise before returning her grin, though his was more lopsided, more unsure. “I’ll try.”_

_Tifa nodded, like that was the most obvious thing in the world. But then, to his endless surprise, she blushed. He saw it in the starlight, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Tifa, blushing from something he said? What did he even say?_

_“Hey,” she began, her voice shy. “Want to make a promise?”_

_Cloud cocked his head in confusion. First she was blushing, now she wants to make a promise?_

_Tifa kicked her feet out. “Like, um… if you get really famous and I’m ever in a bind...” She glanced at him, and her eyelashes cast shadows on her cheekbones. “You’ll come save me.” Her lips curved into a smile, and Cloud’s throat went dry. “Right?”_

_He didn’t know what that meant. Didn’t know entirely what she was asking, but it would have been a crime to say anything but, “I promise.”_

* * *

Sunlight shifted through the broken rafters and spilled onto the flowers below. The yellow blooms stretched towards the sun, their yellow petals open and broad, their stems thin and strong. Just the way they should be.

Aerith ripped out a weed and tossed it into a pile beside her. Her fingernails were caked with dirt, every crease in her palms were lined with brown, her dress was mud-stained, and she wouldn’t have changed anything for the world.

Well. Maybe not anything.

Her gaze drifted to a certain cart in the corner. It had already been broken, but the years hadn’t been very kind to it. The paint at all flaked off, a wheel had snapped during a particularly nasty storm, and at one point, rats had chewed through the handle. A smile dusted her lips. Zack certainly had a challenge ahead of him.

And he would come. She was certain of it. For the first time in four years, she was certain of it. She couldn’t put it to words, exactly. All she knew was that it was like someone had opened a window and she could feel his warmth for the first time. His presence. He was no longer hidden from her sight and she lifted her head to the rafters, to the pale sky above, and the clouds were reflected in her emerald eyes.

_So when will you visit, Zack?_

As always, thinking of Zack visiting brought tears to her eyes. She impatiently wiped them away – she had cried over him enough times, thank you very much – and took care not to streak dirt across her cheeks.

_Or maybe I should visit you for a change,_ she wondered. It wasn’t the first time the thought had crossed her mind, but something always held her back. Her mother. Her flowers. The orphanage. But now that she could sense him again…

She glanced at her bag, a simple brown thing filled with a bottle of water and a sandwich for lunch. She eyed it for a moment, frowning… before she smiled and shook her head, almost embarrassed with herself. Her, traveling across the world on a quest, like some storybook character? _Her?_ She couldn’t even imagine it.

No, her place was in the slums, and she ripped out another weed. Always was, always would be. And she was happy with that.

Suddenly a new presence pressed against her like a whisper, and she immediately knew who was there. Footsteps – strong, sure, and even – echoed against the wooden floor moments later, confirming her thoughts.

“Tseng,” she said in greeting. She didn’t even bother turning around. “Visiting me again so soon? Keep that up, and I’ll start to think that you miss me,” she teased.

Tseng cleared his throat. He never could handle her teasing, but that was part of the reason why it was so much. “Not me,” he finally said. “However, someone else misses you.”

She paused. Her hands stilled around another weed, her fingers pinching its green step. “You...” She glanced over her shoulder, her green eyes wide, hopeful, preparing to be crushed. “You don’t mean...”

Tseng smiled, one of his rare smiles, and nodded.


	5. Sunshine and Freedom

The afternoon light sifted through the window. The window was small, a mere slit in the whitewash wall, but it was welcome just the same. Sunlight cut gold across the floor and smeared itself across the two hospital beds, an IV pushed into the corner, a simple box resting on the nightstand. Pale curtains pillowed the air as a breeze pushed its way into the hospital room. With the breeze came the scent of concrete, sour pollution, the acidic hiss of mako...

… and Zack woke with a start.

Sweat clung to his skin and stuck his dark hair against his forehead, chilling him despite the warmth. He shivered. The tendrils of the nightmare were already receding into the back of his mind, hissing and clawing the entire way, and Zack shook his head against it.

_Everything's okay,_ he reminded himself. It had become a mantra of sorts, something to hold onto when the nightmares felt a little too real. _We've escaped. Everything's okay._

He pressed a clammy hand against his temple, exhaling. He wasn't sure when he had dozed off. It couldn't have been long, maybe thirty minutes at most, but it felt like it had been sleeping for years. _Four_ years, to be exact.

Cloud made a small noise, jolting Zack out of his spiraling thoughts. _Cloud needs me._ It was such a familiar worry, so well-worn and used, that it was nearly therapeutic. He had worried about Cloud for so long, for so often – even _before_ the lab – that it was like falling into a familiar bed. It was comfortable. And even better, it kept him from thinking about the current mess that was himself.

"Hey, buddy," Zack murmured. He forced himself to sit upright, wincing a little as his bandages stretched to accommodate him. But that was his only reaction – a wince, and then the soreness dissipated and he almost fell alright. A little tired, perhaps. But alright. Not at all like he took a hundred-something bullets to the chest just a day prior.

His fingers brushed against the old wounds, at the bullet holes that had already stitched themselves shut, and smiled a tight, bitter smile. Every scar was just another reminder of the treatments Hojo had done to him.

Had done to _them._

Right.

Zack swung his legs over the side of the bed and moved to Cloud's side, who had made another small, pained noise. "Hey, buddy," Zack said again, his voice low and soft. "How are you feeling?"

Cloud's eyelashes fluttered when he was cast in Zack's shadow, but it was a reflex reaction. There was no thought behind it, no awareness behind those dull, mako-laced eyes. Something in Zack's tightened, and he pushed some of Cloud's hair out of his face. The blond had darkened from being inside for so long, and if it caught the light a certain way, it glinted green. Undoubtedly from the sheer amount of mako Hojo had pumped into his body.

Zack sighed and let his hand fall. _You saved him,_ the nurse had said. But Zack wasn't too sure about that. He had been touched at the time, of course. At the comfort her words brought, at her following smile, and the way her fingers squeezed his shoulder. He had wanted to believe her. _God,_ had he wanted to believe her.

But looking at Cloud now, thin and pale and comatose, hooked up to an IV with a needle in his elbow… the sight of which still made Zack's stomach turn… it was a little more difficult to believe.

_Shit._

Zack rubbed the back of his neck, an impatient, frustrated gesture. _What do I do, Angeal?_ he wordlessly pleaded. He glanced out the window, at the orange-tinged sky beyond. _What would_ you _do?_

No answer was forthcoming, not like he expected one anyway, and he sighed again. His morning optimism was all but gone, and he heavily sat down on the edge of Cloud's bed. The thin mattress groaned beneath his weight as he clasped his hands on his knees.

_I_ _need to do something,_ he knew. His leg bounced. His first reaction was to do some squats, but his hands clenched further and he remained rooted in place. His knuckles were white from strain. Squats were good exercise, sure, but he needed to do something more. Something _productive._

Cloud, behind him, made another small, desperate noise.

All the fight went out of Zack upon hearing it, and he reached back and placing a hand on Cloud's cheek. His cheekbone was prominent against his pale skin, _too_ prominent for Zack's taste, and his expression remained empty, blank, untouchable.

"You doin' okay?" Zack asked, again not expecting much of an answer. He watched Cloud for a moment. A moment turned into two -

_\- You saved him -_

_-_ and he tore his gaze away, his breath hitching as the nurse's words cut into him like a blade. _What's wrong with me,_ he silently demanded. His hands were shaking. He needed a walk, needed to clear his head because he wasn't any good to anyone like this. Wasn't good for himself, and certainly not good for Cloud.

Forcing a smile, he placed a hand on Cloud's head and managed, "Don't worry, Spikey. I'll be right back, okay? Just... getting a little air." He moved to stand upright, but something made him pause. Maybe it was Cloud – maybe it was the bleak expression Zack thought he imagined, or maybe it was the sudden twist of guilt he felt. Regardless, he found himself continuing, "Next time I'll bring you too, okay? Some sunlight will do you so good." His smile eased, lost a little bit of tension, and he added, "You're looking a little pasty there, buddy."

He wasn't sure if Cloud heard him, but it made Zack feel better all the same. Ruffling Cloud's hair once more, which Cloud would have _hated_ if he was awake, Zack grinned and headed out of the room. The moment the door opened, he was bathed in iridescent lights that had him instinctively tensing. The harsh scent of antiseptic also twisted his stomach – there was a reason he always kept their window open – but he aggressively shoved those thoughts out of his head. In fact, he almost laughed at himself. Him, SOLDIER 1st Class, afraid of some stupid lights and medicine? Angeal was probably rolling over in his grave.

_That I put him in,_ his mind automatically supplied.

_That_ sobered him. Zack pushed some hair out of his eyes, and his slippered feet ringing hollow against the walls. He walked with no destination in mind. That thought, the thought of killing his mentor, was easier to push aside. After all, Aerith had helped him through that particular trauma. Had held him as he cried against her, unable to help or control himself. If he closed his eyes, he could still remember the way she smelled in that moment – like sunshine and flowers and warm earth – and could taste the salt on his tongue, mixing with dirt as Aerith brushed her thumbs along his cheeks and murmured reassurances in his ear.

He missed her.

And _missing her_ was a physical ache in his chest, tight and painful to the point of breaking. All of a sudden he wanted to turn back to the room, grab that box of letters, and read every single one. Read them all until they were scattered on the floor along with his bloody, bruised heart. _But maybe it'll be okay,_ he reminded himself. After all, the first one wasn't so bad. In fact, it had been really, _really_ good. But what about the rest of them? What if, as the letters continued, he had to read about how she slowly lost her faith in him? How he slowly lost her trust? Her love? It _had_ been four years of no contact, and regardless of the reasons, she must have moved on with her life. He wouldn't have been surprised. That's what _he_ would have done.

Zack sharply exhaled, a tight hiss of emotion whistling between his teeth. _I need to accept that,_ he told himself. No – _ordered_ himself, like he was an unruly infantryman being berated by a superior officer. And as he found himself stopped in front of a vending machine, seeing it without really seeing it, he reminded himself that acceptance would be for the best. Did he _really_ want Aerith worrying about him for four straight years? Wondering if he left her, if he never wanted to see her again, if he forgot all about her and was dating someone else?

The mere thought of her giving up on him made him feel physically ill. Yet, at the same time, he couldn't bear the other side of it. He didn't want to imagine her wasting four years of feeling sad, or betrayed, or… or _anything,_ _r_ eally. He wanted her to be happy. And maybe – _just maybe_ – that meant he had to let go, and let the letters speak for themselves.

He forehead tapped against the cool plastic of the vending machine, and his eyes slowly closed. _Maybe it's for the best,_ he reminded himself. _Besides, I have Cloud to worry about now._ The thought of the younger blond – first his laugh over their shared country-boy-reactor joke, then his limp body as Zack half-carried, half-dragged him out of the lap – made his stomach clench. What if Cloud could no longer take care of himself after he wakes up? What if he's damaged, but permanently?

Now Zack felt ill, but for an entirely different reason. That was just one more thought he had to come to terms with.

_Maybe, once he's better and we can leave the hospital, I'll become a mercenary._ He briefly opened his eyes to glance at his hand as he clenched it, testing its strength, its grip. _Hell, I could probably go out there right now. Start making some money._ He sighed and closed his eyes. _How much will this hospital visit cost, anyway?_

"Excuse me," came a feminine voice, "are you using that?"

A new voice snapped him out of his thoughts, which had admittedly spiraled out of control. "Ah, no." The words were a stammer as he snapped upright. "I'm… not."

Then there was a giggle. A painfully familiar giggle, one that tugged on all of his heartstrings. Zack sharply inhaled. He was suddenly afraid to turn around.

"Need some gil?" the voice – the sweet, kind, caring voice – continued. There was a hint of humor in her words. Like there was a joke somewhere, but he had missed the punchline. "Or maybe something else?"

Zack was idly aware his hands were shaking. He wanted to turn around, _badly_ , more than anything he had ever wanted – but something inside of him froze. What if it wasn't her? What if it was just someone that _sounded_ like her? She wouldn't be here, she shouldn't, she would be at her church in the slums tending the flowers and in _no way would she be_ _-_

\- and two thin arms suddenly wrapped around his waist, pulling him in, squeezed him, short circuiting all of his thoughts. His stomach tightened as he sucked in breath, as if he hadn't been hugged but had hit by a truck.

In return, Zack could _feel_ her inhale his scent. Could feel her heart beating against his back, so strong for such a small thing, and he could feel his heart beating in rhythm. Her hug was so gentle, but he felt himself breaking at her touch. Cracking. Splintering to reveal every jagged piece of him, and he so desperately wanted to pull those fragments back in order. When he turned around to face her – _her, she was actually here –_ he wanted her to see someone strong. Someone happy, someone who she could rely on, someone who could give her all of the answers that she was undoubtedly dying to ask.

"I missed you," she murmured into his back.

And just like that, every flimsy defense he had scrambled together crashed and fell apart. Something very much like a sob clawed out of his throat.

She always had that affect on him. With the smallest phrase she could burrow in him, make him lay bare all of his thoughts, and he found himself turning, felt his eyes already burning before something hot and wet cut a track down his cheek. Two pairs of bright emerald eyes looked up at him, _smiling_ at him despite the shine in her own eyes, and… _and…_

" _I'm so sorry."_

The words had choked out of him before he consciously recognized them – hell, he wasn't even sure why he said that – and then his arms were wrapped around her frame, pulling her in as if she was his lifeline and he was a man drowning at see. His breath shuddered between them, filling the silence. "I – I'm so sorry, I didn't -"

" _Shh_." He felt her hands shift until her fingers were interlaced with his dark hair and she was pulling his head onto her shoulder, until his face was pressed into the thin sleeve of her dress, and she had moved to her tiptoes to accommodate him. "You don't have to say anything." Her voice echoed in him, its touch so gentle that it was almost cruel. He felt her warm breath against his neck as she continued, "I understand."

Zack squeezed his eyes shut, not caring where they were, that there were others around, and was only vaguely aware that Tseng had murmured something to someone and was ushering people out of the waiting room. When he blinked his eyes open for a moment, he could see Tseng watching them through the blur of tears – a torn expression, a sad smile – until the Turk left as well, and he and Aerith were alone. He closed his eyes and inhaled into her shoulder, her hair. All he could feel was Aerith. Aerith's words. Aerith's presence, warm and kind and gentle, filling all of the brutal, bleeding cracks inside of him.

_I understand,_ she had told him.

And, in that moment, as his body shuddered with every gasping, salt-tinged breath and she shifted against him, smiling through her own tears… he believed her.

* * *

_Mountains cut a jagged outline into the horizon, a horizon unmarred by clouds or birds or... much of anything, really. The brilliant sunlight reflected off of their white peaks, and the snow reflected that light a thousand different ways._ Like diamonds, _Cloud thought as the snow crunched beneath his shoes._ Like thousands of diamonds.

_"_ _At least someone is keeping up!"_

_A voice, familiar and yet completely foreign, jolted Cloud out of his thoughts. He lifted his head, his green scarf scratching at his chin, and realized that someone was watching him. Someone with dark hair, bright blue eyes, and wearing a SOLDIER's uniform. There was a SOLDIER's sword strapped onto the SOLDIER's back._

_Cloud blinked, confused, when his mouth involuntarily opened and he heard himself say, "Well, I'm a bit of a country boy myself."_

_It was as if a shadow had passed over the sun. His chest tightened –_ Why did I say that? - _and threatened to crush his suddenly pounding heart. He had the sense that this conversation was important. That it had meant a lot to him, but his head hurt, and he couldn't remember why…_

_The dark-haired SOLDIER visibly brightened at Cloud's response. "Oh, really?" he said, grinning. The sun glinted off his blade's edge, highlighting its wicked sharpness. "Where from?"_

_"_ _I..." Cloud began, but drew a blank. His brow furrowed in confusion. "I…"_

* * *

Cloud blinked his eyes. The first thing he noticed was that the world had a strange green tint to it, one that didn't seem to go away no matter how many times he blinked, and the second was he had a _crushing_ headache. The sort that felt like someone was hammering a spike between his eyes, something big and burning hot, and his hand instinctively jerked up to apply any sort of pressure – but a tug at his elbow, and a flash of pain, made him pause.

_Wha?_

Grimacing, he glanced downward only to frown in confusion. _Something in my elbow?_ It took a moment for what he was seeing – a syringe taped onto the crook of his arm, a tube trailing out of it – to pierce the fog of his mind, but once it did, panic took hold. Without thinking, he ripped it out of his skin and threw it to the side, his breathes rapid and sharp. Something sticky and warm beaded from the hole and trickled down his arm, but he didn't notice. He was afraid of that needle. _Terrified,_ but it was gone, it was out, and it gave him a small measure of relief.

Which led him to his third thought: _Where am I?_

With shaky limbs he managed to push himself more upright. The effort made him lightheaded, and he had to close his eyes and rest a moment before taking in the world. When he felt a bit better, he opened his eyes and glanced at his body, tucked underneath plain white covers, before he dragged upward and realized that he did not recognize his surroundings. No – there was recognition there. Some small part of him instinctively shrank back against the iridescent lights, the sharp smell of antiseptic, the roll of bandages lying on the empty bed beside him.

_Why?_

No, it didn't matter why. All he knew was that he wanted out. _Desperately_ _._ Like he had never wanted anything before, and it made his insides tremble at just the thought of _needed_ to leave, needed to leave _now_ _,_ before Hojo -

His brow knotted. _Hojo?_ The name rolled about in his mind, folded in on itself like origami, became smaller and smaller until it was little more than a vague fear and hopelessness. When he opened his eyes again – he did not remember ever closing them – he was exhausted and trembling.

_Out,_ his mind reminded, spurring him back to action. _Need to leave. Need to go now._

Cloud grit his teeth and forced himself to his feet. His legs trembled beneath him but they held, miraculously, and he took one unsteady step towards the door, and then another. The room seemed to be shifting underneath him and he felt like he was on a boat, a rocky one. He hated it, and placed a hand on the wall to steady himself until the rolling stopped. His eyes flicked towards the crook of his elbow, but the piercing had already closed. Even the trickle of blood had dried.

His lips pursed into something like a frown. Something screamed that that was _wrong,_ that the needle hole had healed far too quickly, but another part of him urged that he needed to focus. That he needed to leave. Leave before anyone noticed that he was conscious and awake, because if they found him they'd _do_ things to him...

A small gasp passed Cloud's lips as his stomach twisted, and he stumbled into the door. Sweat pricked his brow. For a moment, the world seemed to go soft on the edges, a little more blurred, a little more shiny… but he managed to blink it away. He had to focus. He needed to leave, and he couldn't get caught.

The mere thought of getting caught, of being forced back here – wherever _here_ was – twisted his stomach. Twisted, and suddenly he was nauseous – a startlingly familiar feeling – and he slammed a hand over his mouth, his breaths short and uneven. He would _not_ be sick. _Not_ here. If he did, bad things would happen, he was sure of it. He didn't want that.

Once the nausea had subsided, if only enough for Cloud to catch his breath, he cracked open the door…

… only for the door to suddenly be pulled out of his hands. He looked up, blinking in confusion, and he found himself staring into a pair of very startled, very blue eyes. Cloud went still. He _knew_ that face – the dark hair, the x-shaped scar, the eyes. Knew it, but...

The man was the first to break the silence. "Cloud?" he managed. His voice was little more than a breathless gasp. "You're… You're awake." He reached forward, beginning to say something else, something like _thank god_ and _I was worried,_ but Cloud was focused on the hand. At the torn nails, the scars, at everything it represented.

_Gonna get caught._

Cloud's breath hitched as the thought tore across his ragged, foggy mind.

_Need to leave now._

The order snapped something with him and his eyes suddenly burned, a sharp flare that made the world go green, and he slammed his hands into the man's chest and _pushed._ Cloud wasn't sure where the strength came from. It certainty wasn't him but he didn't care, didn't care and when the man grunted and stumbled backward – more surprised than hurt – Cloud had moved passed him and was running. His bare feet slapped against the tiled floor in a rapid staccato. He was dimly aware of a startled shout behind him, something strikingly familiar, maybe a name…

_Can't get caught._

His strangled breathes burned his throat. His head ached, threatening to split in half, and he pressed a hand against it. Everything hurt.

_Can't go back._

With his other hand, Cloud threw open the emergency exit door, his pants loud and gasping. The footsteps were getting closer. His eyes burned, his head hurt, the world was tinted an even stronger shade of green, but he found himself sprinting down the stairwell anyway. Desperation was his only motivation, and he was vaguely aware that he tripped at some point, but he was back up in seconds. He didn't even feel the pain. Didn't even care, because he leaving.

And he was _never_ coming back.


	6. Coffee and Wine

The Turk lounge was quiet. The quiet itself wasn't unusual, per say, but the same couldn't be said for the _nature_ of the silence. It was a heavy thing, suffocating and bleak, and it seemed to swallow the few sounds that were there. The rustle of papers. The click of a pen on wood. It choked the conversations that leaked through the heavy door, until each syllable muffled and indistinct and meaningless.

And that was just the way Tseng liked it. The quiet, as oppressive as it was, relaxed him. Allowed him to find a measure of solitude. So he reclined in the lounge chair, his long legs crossed at the knee and an Avalanche intel report spread across his lap, he assured himself that solitude – and the calm it always carried with it – was _exactly_ what he needed. And what he _needed_ was to focus.

His dark gaze flicked over the report on his lap. It was a dull thing, far too dull and far too long for his taste, but reports such as these were necessary. At least, that's what Tseng reminded himself. If anyone asked – and _no one_ ever asked – he would say that he preferred field work, if only because he enjoyed the fresh air.

By contrast, the air in the lounge was thick with the scent of cologne and musk and coffee, but Tseng's mind had moved onto other things. More important things. The President had called a moment ago with a new mission, one that could only be entrusted to the Turks. Tseng knew this. Knew this like a he knew that the sky was blue and tea needed sugar, and yet he found his mind… distracted. His thoughts were uncertain. Uneasy. He reached for his coffee, dark and bitter as it swirled within the black mug, and bitter was his mood.

Aerith had _never_ smiled at him like that.

His mind flickered back to Zack and Aerith's reunion. At Aerith's faint gasp when she saw Zack leaning against the vending machine, his body taunt as if he was carrying the world on his shoulders. Her footsteps, airy and light, as she half-walked, half-ran to meet him. Her teasing, tear-filled grin when she asked if he if was using the vending machine. And when Zack and finally turned around, his dark eyes bright and expression torn between elation and surprise and crushing sorrow…

Tseng had suddenly felt like an intruder. Like he hadn't belonged. It certainly wasn't an unfamiliar feeling, as he _always_ felt a little bit of an outside with Aerith, but this was different. More real. More upfront, and so he had ushered everyone out of the waiting room to give them a little privacy. It was the least he could do.

Afterwards, he had found himself back in Shinra Headquarters and entering the Turks' private lounge, a cup of black coffee in hand, in order to be alone for a moment. He had intended to collect his thoughts, but then the President had called and – well, you never ignore the President.

The report became forgotten in Tseng's hands as his thoughts further slipped away from the task at hand. He felt… strange. Like something was twisting inside of him. It took him a long moment to realize why, but when he did, the realization was troubling. He was _jealous,_ for lack of better word, and now that he was aware of it… he found himself unsure what to _do_ about it. This was new to him. He found himself wanting to ask Reno for advice, as Reno was arguably the most expressive of the Turks, but the thought was strangely nauseating.

And so he remained in the Turk lounge and bathed in its silence, its heavy, oppressive silence, and did his best to focus on the mission in front of him. His dark eyes flicked across the page, taking in its information, compartmentalized it into what was important and what was not _._

Summarizing the report took only a few moments. In brief, Shinra was aware that the eco-terrorist group Avalanche was planning a bombing mission, most likely on a mako reactor in one of Midgar's eight districts. The report also noted the following evidence: materia sales spiking in sectors one and three; a statistically significant increase of internet searches related to bomb making; a photograph of a young woman with copper hair and a cellphone in one hand, a bag full of computer parts in the other, and a croissant in her mouth. But that was where the hard evidence ended. The report was unsure what reactor, unsure what day or time the bombing would take place, and was overall worthless.

_But that is why the President has given this mission to the Turks,_ Tseng reminded himself. As was their mantra, the Turks always completed their mission, no matter how impossible. And like always, Tseng would see the mission through the completion. No matter what it took.

There was a sudden creak as the door opened, and Tseng effectively schooled his surprised expression into neutrality as Cissnei stepped into the lounge. He noted that her expression as downcast and shoulders slumped, as if in defeat – a posture she would never have assumed had she known he was in the room. Tseng also took note of her casual attire, a simple jeans and a rosy blouse, and realized she had must just returned from an intel mission. Tracking down Wutai spies, he recalled.

Suddenly she noticed him, and after blinking in confusion, she suddenly straightened. "Tseng," she said in greeting, and offered him a smile. But it was a sad smile. Sad and bitter, which wasn't like her. "You too, huh?"

Tseng arched an eyebrow. He did not know what she meant by that, and to be frank, he had no intention of asking.

"We have received orders from the President," Tseng said, changing the subject. The effect his words had was immediate. Cissnei snapped even further upright, her back rod straight, and the dull look in her eyes replaced by something bright and sharp. _Good,_ Tseng thought in satisfaction. _We'll need that focus._ Turning back to his report, he continued, "According to our sources, Avalanche is preparing to bomb a mako reactor."

If Cissnei was surprised by his declaration, she didn't show it. "And the President wants us to stop them," she supplied. It wasn't a question.

Tseng dipped his head in acknowledgement. "That is correct." Standing, he continued, "Have you heard from Reno and Rude?"

"No, sir," Cissnei replied. "Not since we collected Fair and Strife."

"Then they must be bored." Tseng glanced back at the report, as sloppy and vague as it was, before handing it to Cissnei. She took it without a word, her grip strong and sure. "I'm assigning them to this mission."

Cissnei flipped through the report, and her lips tipped into a frown. "Avalanche is planning a bombing mission?" The surprise was plain in her voice, and if he was being fair, he had been surprised as well. It was nothing short of suicidal. Only a madman would consider such a thing.

"So the information division believes," Tseng replied. In other words, because the intel had not come from them, it could not be fully trusted. Everything would need to be double checked and confirmed. _That said…_ "The President also seems to believe it."

Cissnei's eyes narrowed as she inspected the list of evidence. "It would be in his best interest too."

Tseng couldn't help but agree, but he kept that to himself. "Make sure Reno and Rude receive that report, as well as the scopes of the mission. I will prepare a debrief -" he glanced at his watch _,_ and after a brief pause, continued, "- tomorrow morning, at 0700 sharp." _When had it gotten so late?_ While he had been deep in his introspective musings, the time had escaped from him. He would have to be more careful in the future."

"Yes, sir," Cissnei replied. Then, with the barest hint of a smile, added, "When I hand over the report, I'll keep it as straight forward as possible."

"Good." Tseng preferred to keep things simple and clear when it came to Reno and Rude. While the Turks were highly effective and took their jobs incredible seriously, Tseng was all too aware of Reno's ability to get… well, distracted. Coupled with Rude's quiet but trusting personality, the two of them made for a potent combination. That wasn't always a good thing, necessarily. "Also," Tseng added, almost as an afterthought, "make them aware that this is a direct order from the President. Perhaps that will further motivate them."

"Yes, sir," Cissnei replied. There was the barest hint of amusement in her voice, just as Tseng's phone began to ring. He fished his phone out of his back pocket, only to frown – a rare expression for him. The caller ID was immediately worrying.

"The hospital," Tseng explained at Cissnei's curious look. Pressing the phone against his ear, he deadpanned, "What is it?"

_"_ _I, well, I'm not sure how to explain this exactly."_ It took Tseng a moment to place the voice, but it came to him a moment later. Cindy Grey, one of the third floor receptionists. Older. Sweet. Baked the entire floor cookies at one point.

_But the third floor…_ Tseng resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, if only to stave off the coming headache. The third floor is where Fair and Strife were residing, and if _he_ was receiving this call, then it involved the two of them. Undoubtedly involved more trouble, judging by the Grey's worried tone.

When Grey remained silent, Tseng prompted, "It will be easiest if you just tell me."

_"_ _Ah… yes, of course. Well…"_ There was a sharp inhale on the end of the phone, and Tseng had the distinct sense that he wouldn't like what she was about to say. _"_ _To put it bluntly, Sample C has escaped."_ A pause. A shudder of breath. Then: _"_ _We cannot find him._ _"_

* * *

_We cannot find him._

The receptionist's words hissed across Zack's consciousness, dragged its claws across his mind, further tore whatever thin grasp of self control he had pieced together between Cloud running away and Aerith herding him back inside. His leg bounced. His fingers were knotted against his lips, the knuckles white, the skin clammy and trembling. He was vaguely aware that the receptionist was continuing to talk, but it was just noise to him. A steady drone of sound that had no meaning, so substance, nothing he could hold on to.

And his thoughts continued to spiral. Spiraled and melded with memories, a thick tangle of thoughts and emotions and tangible fears.

_Cloud was afraid of me._

No; not afraid. _Afraid_ would be putting it lightly. Cloud – his best friend, his lab buddy, his _brother_ – had been absolutely _terrified_ of him. The sort of terror that drowns out the rest of the world and paints it shades of red. Zack was familiar with that terror. He had felt it the moment Cissnei landed the helicopter in front of them on the Midgar plains, and he had been convinced they were going back to the lab. Going back to that hell.

Zack buried his head in his heads. God, Cloud had _hit_ him. His eyes had flared green in a mako-induced adrenaline rush, and he had hit him far harder than anyone fresh out of a coma should be able to hit. And then, before Zack could fully recover, Cloud had started _running..._

… and when Zack had stood up to chase him…

Zack's hand drifted across the bandages, which he knew were already becoming staining from the reopened, bleeding wounds. Frustration tightened his core. _Damn it._

After that, it was a blur of images. Zack wasn't sure when he had picked himself off the floor or called Cloud's name, but now there was a thin trail of blood splattered down the emergency stairwell and Zack wasn't exactly sure who it belonged to. Truth be told, he wasn't entirely sure how he got back to the hospital's waiting room. He just knew that at one point his knees buckled, Cloud had seemingly vanished into thin air, and then Aerith was there, holding his hand, ushering him onto a couch, whispering impossible reassurances that he couldn't help but believe – but only because she was the one promising them.

Zack' eyes pricked, and he squeezed his eyes shut. _But Cloud got away._ He was distantly aware that the cushion was hard and uncomfortable beneath him, but he didn't move. Didn't want to move because he preferred to stay uncomfortable and sore and hurting. _I really can't save anyone._

A hand, small and soft and warm, suddenly pressed against his cheek, right over his crossed scar. For a moment, he didn't move. Didn't dare breathe, just in case Aerith decided to move her hand away, but then his need for comfort overruled his desire to drown in self-pity.

Self pity didn't suit him, anyway.

Opening his eyes, he managed to say, "This isn't how I imagined our reunion going." He sounded distant, like it was echoing across canyon walls, but Aerith's expression softened regardless.

"Oh?"

"I had a lot of time to think about it," Zack said. He offered her a small, thin smile, and she returned it despite the worry in her eyes. "Actually, I was going to buy you flowers."

Aerith's smile warmed, like he had said something funny. Maybe he had. "Really?"

"Yeah." He had daydreamed about their reunion often, both in the lab and while he and Cloud were making their way back to Midgar. At first, he had imagined their reunion for the pure positivity of it. The hopefulness it embodied, but over time, it had turned into some sort of crutch. His reason to keep going. To survive another day; not for Cloud's sake, but for his own. "I was going to bring you flowers," he continued, his voice soft, "and surprise you in the church. It was going to be sunny that day. Maybe during the spring or summer, and I would tap your shoulder, and you would turn around and smile at me." He thickly swallowed. "I missed your smiles."

Aerith leaned against his side; her hand, which had been caressing his cheek, moved to wrap around his arm. "And then what happened?" she asked. "During our reunion?"

"Well, you'd throw your arms around me and hug me, tight," he admitted. A small part of him wanted to be embarrassed about admitting it, admitting how desperately he craved her touch and affection, but a much larger part didn't care. So he didn't. "And then I - I was going to sweep you off your feet. And then, after all was said and done, I was going to introduce you to Cloud." He felt his throat tighten, felt his eyes burn. "He saved my life. I don't think I ever had the chance to tell you that."

Aerith's expression softened. "No, I hadn't known."

"But now Cloud's alone." Zack's voice was hoarse. "He _hates_ being alone. I – I need to find him." The mako in his eyes brightened, the telltale sign of heightened emotions, of adrenaline, of panic. He made a move to stand. "I should have -"

Aerith shushed him by placed a finger against his lips. It was so startling that it had Zack blinking – she had _never_ shushed him before – and before he knew what was happening, she was guiding him back onto the couch. Her arm was still wrapped around his.

"I know you want to be a hero," Aerith told him, gently, "but you're in no condition to be chasing anyone."

Zack knew that she was right. That his chest burned, that it felt like a rib had broken, that there was fire spreading through his veins. Even _breathing_ hurt, and he was once again reminded just how hard Cloud pushing him out of the way. Suddenly, Cloud killing Sephiroth didn't seem that far-fetched. Like sure, he _knew_ Cloud had done it, had heard it happen… but feeling it against him was something entirely new.

"Besides," Aerith continuing, resting her head on his shoulder, "I have a feeling Cloud will be okay. That he's gone to meet a friend."

Zack's glanced at her. "How..." His voice cracked, so he cleared it and tried again. "How do you know?"

Aerith glanced up and smiled at him, lopsided and honest. "I just do."

Zack thickly swallowed. Suddenly, he was ashamed; ashamed how weak he was, how different he was from four years prior. "I'm sorry," he found himself saying, "for not… being who you remember."

To his surprise, Aerith lightly bopped him on the nose, like a parent teasing a child. It left him confused and sputtering. "No more of that," she told him. No; _scolded_ him. "You're doing the best you can, Zack. Not even flowers bloom all year round, so you can't force yourself to." She scowled at him; all playful, no bite. "Okay?"

Zack blinked at her a moment before shaking his head, a laugh caught in his throat. "When did you get so wise?" he asked.

Aerith's green eyes twinkled. "Oh, you know."

Suddenly footsteps echoed near them, dragging Zack out of his thoughts, their conversation. And when he turned, he was surprised the receptionist holding a phone out towards him. He stared at in confusion.

"It's for you," the receptionist explained.

Shooting Aerith a glance, who only nodded in encouragement, Zack took the phone and pressed it against his ear and said, "Hello?"

_"_ _Zack."_ Tseng's cool voice echoed from the other end.

Zack stomach tightened. If Tseng was calling, then it could only mean one thing. "I take it you know what happened?" His voice was rougher than he intended.

_"_ _I have been informed that Strife has decided to check himself out,"_ Tseng said, which had Zack scoffing. _That_ was one way of putting it.

"He shouldn't have been able to get out," Zack said. The bitterness in his voice was obvious. "Cloud was sick. Confused. Weak. How could he outrun a hospital managed by _Turks_ _?_ "

_"_ _We've reached that same question, and are reviewing the footage now,"_ Tseng stated. _"Our initial findings indicate that his mako enhancements allowed him to move much faster than expected, and so security regarding Strife lax. But as you put it, he's weak and confused. We'll catch up to him soon."_

"Do you know where he went?"

There was a pause, and then: _"No. But that brings us to the true purpose of this phone call."_

Zack shot Aerith a glance, and her lips pursed with worry. "True purpose?" Zack repeated.

_"_ _Yes,"_ Tseng confirmed. _"We need to find Cloud as quickly as possible, as he is a danger to himself and others, and now that he's awake, we can begin treatment. I have assigned the Turks the task of returning him to the hospital, and I was hoping to ask for your assistance."_ A pause. _"I'm sure you are eager to return to the field."_

Zack exhaled, a mere hiss between his teeth. "I am," he admitted. It wasn't a lie. He missed the simplicity of his old SOLDIER life, missed the familiarity of the battlefield, missed having a real purpose and direction in his life. But that was where it ended. "But," he continued, "don't forget that I'm a wanted man." Aerith arched an eyebrow at that, and Zack internally cursed – he didn't want to talk about this, not in front of Aerith, not before he had properly explained everything. "But if there's anything I can do, anything at all… I'll do it. But there will be conditions. I'm not working for Shinra."

_"_ _That can be arranged. It's unusual, but not unheard of, for the Turks to employ mercenaries during certain missions_ _._ _You will be paid, of course._ _"_ Tseng's reply was smooth and calculated, as if he had already predicted what Zack wanted and was going to say. _"_ _In the meantime, I will be placing you with Reno and Rude, starting tomorrow as this mission is time sensitive. Their main order is to track down members of Avalanche – you will be debriefed tomorrow at 0800 in your hospital room – but their secondary order, and your primary goal, is to find Cloud and bring him home."_

When Zack did not immediately reply – he was too busy dissecting Tseng's words, searching for hidden barbs, for red flags – Tseng added in a gentler tone, _"Don't forget, Fair. We're on your side."_

Zack closed his eyes. When he opened them again, there was new life burning in his gaze and he shot Aerith a small, reassuring smile. In response, Aerith looped her hand in his, and he said, "I'm in."

* * *

Tifa meandered through the Sector 6 market, a basket on her hip as she inspected a barrel full of produce. The shopkeeper, an elderly man with missing teeth, watched her and occasionally offered his suggestions. Tifa pointedly ignored them all. After working as a bartender at the Seventh Heaven for so long, she was something of an expert at picking out the best produce… not to mention snagging the best deals, much to the man's dismay.

After trading some gil for a few potatoes, and feeling very pleased about how much gil she saved, she meandered deeper into the market. Her shadow was cast long and thin in front of her, and she deeply inhaled the scent of dust, lemon, and cooking meat. The open market of Sector 6 was one of her favorite places in Midgar. She loved how busy it was, how colorful it was, how noisy. It had an energy about it, a sort of magic that she associated with her childhood – but only the best parts.

So it was with a hint of regret that she noticed just how long her shadow had grown, not to mention the orange tint on the horizon, and she knew that she'd have to return back to Sector 7 soon. And, by extension, return to the rest of the Avalanche team.

A harsh sigh escaped her lips. _They_ , meaning Barret, had decided that they'd bomb the Sector 1 reactor in two days. That left one day for Jessie to finalize her bomb. One day for Biggs to smooth out the intel he had collected. One day for Wedge to secure their escape plan. And _two_ days of Barret nagging them about the planet, their higher purpose, and the _greater good._ Tifa got it – really, she did. But sometimes she needed a _break._

Which is why she was here, at the market, instead of dealing with her problems. But, as she walked back to the train station with her basket heavy on her hip, she knew that couldn't run from them forever.

_Well, one afternoon is okay,_ she decided. She glanced at her basket – full of ripe fruits, vegetables, fresh bread, and a bottle of cheap wine, and smiled despite herself. She loved the rest of the team like family, but tonight was _her_ night. She needed to time to herself every _once_ in a while.

But as she approached the station steps, the atmosphere seemed to change. The lighthearted flutter in her chest seemed to wither, to grow a little heavier. Tifa suppressed a frown. Her first reaction was to wonder if maybe the Shinra soldiers decided to enforce the Train ID check between the Sector 6 and 7 slums, but that didn't make any sense. They had never cared who had passed through before; they only cared who went above plate, to the rich sectors.

So why did she feel this… this _tension_ in the air?

_"_ _Poor kid,"_ someone murmured as they passed. Tifa glanced at them; a woman, her hair gray and skin worn, walking side by side with an older man. One of her hands was pressed against her lips in worry. _"Perhaps he's sick,"_ she continued, her voice low and hushed. _"Maybe we should go back."_

_"_ _Nah, he's probably on drugs,"_ the older man at her side replied. _"Leave 'im."_ Tifa frowned and strained to listen to the rest of their conversation, but their words grew muddled and eventually faded away entirely.

Tifa suppressed her scowl. _So a druggie is haunting the station,_ she thought, and her muscles tensed further. Great. That was _exactly_ what she needed right now; some guy, high off of his mind, out to cause trouble. _Especially_ on a night when she had forgotten her gloves at the bar.

She shook her head. _It doesn't matter,_ she told herself, and straightened her back and pressed on. _If he comes at me, I'll just kick him._ The scenarios were already flashing through her mind. First she would kick out his knee cap, and then if he kept going, she would slam her heel into his groin. He would go down like a rock, she would just on the train, and then she'd go to her apartment and open the bottle of wine. Maybe she'd read a book, too. Or take a hot bath.

The idea of a hot bath brought her smile back, and she ascended the station steps. Then she lifted her head, and saw who, exactly, the couple was so concerned about.

The temperature seemed to plummet ten degrees -

_Oh my god._

\- and bag fell from her arms, fell onto the concrete with a loud crack, but she hardly noticed. Not even when the wine bottle seeped into the cracks and bled scarlet down the stairs.

_Cloud?_

Her mind collapsed on itself, reminding her how impossible it was. Reminded her that Cloud was undoubtedly a SOLDIER somewhere far away, and that he wouldn't be here, that he _couldn't_ be here, never mind half-conscious at the slum train stations. That would be… _impossible_. Tifa shook her head; she was imagining things. She _had_ to be.

But when she opened her eyes and Cloud was still there, slumped agains the chainlink fence, she was already running. Her legs were a blur beneath her as the staton faded into the background, and then all she could see was Cloud, his blond hair sticking up in every direction, just like it had when they had been children.

But when she got closer, she realized that was where the similarities ended. Worry pinched her chest and she crouched down in front of him.

"Cloud?" Her eyes were bright with worry as she searched his face for any hint of recognition, of awareness. But there was none. In fact, it was like Cloud didn't even _notice_ her. Though he lifted his head, maybe at the dull recognition of his name, it was as if he was looking _t_ _hrough_ her. At something that only he could see. Then he winced, as if in pain, and pressed a hand against his temple.

_Maybe the older couple had been right,_ Tifa thought grimly. Maybe Cloud _was_ on drugs.

"Cloud," she said again, growing a little more desperate, and placed a hand on his shoulder. She nearly tore her hand away. His shoulder was _thin_. Thinner and bonier than she had expected it to be, not to mention cold. She worried her lip; he must have been out for a while, and based on his grey long-sleeved shirt and pants – _hospital clothes? -_ he clearly hadn't been prepared for the weather.

But she filed his attire for later. Right now, she had to get Cloud somewhere else, somewhere safer than a train station. _Maybe the bar?_

Suddenly, without warning, Cloud sharply inhaled and smacked her hand off of his shoulder. The movement was so quick that Tifa didn't even see it, and it had her blinking in confusion. It was then that she noticed the bright blue of his eyes, and the hiss of mako green swirling within them… and Tifa's eyes widened. She knew those eyes. Those were _SOLDIER_ eyes.

"Don't touch me," Cloud managed. His voice was so small, so weak, that she had nearly missed it. And that was when she knew:

_This is not the Cloud that I know._

Swallowing her disappointment, Tifa lifted both hands in front of him so that he could see them, see that she wasn't a threat. His eyes narrowed, distrustful. "Cloud, it's me," she murmured. Suddenly she felt very much like she was talking to a child, or perhaps trying to calm a trapped, wounded animal. It worried her. Worried her more than she'd care to admit, but she was skilled at keeping her voice calm, her breathing even. She _was_ a member of Avalanche, after all, and forcing a smile, she added "It's me, Tifa. I would never hurt you, I promise." She paused, her eyes searching, her heart breaking. "You know that."

A moment passed, then another. Then, her shock, Cloud seemed to… to _understand_. He squinted at her, something like recognition flickered in his gaze, and his hand drifted away from his temple. And when Tifa noticed that Cloud _saw_ her, and that he wasn't just looking _through_ her – she nearly broke down in tears right there.

"Tifa?" Cloud thickly swallowed. "Is… that you?"


	7. Sea Glass and Train Tracks

The Sector 6 slum hissed past the train window in a blur of gray and brown. It was cold out, the telltale sign of a changing season, and condensation spotted the window as the train rattled down the tracks. Each stomach-plunging bounce brought the sound of grinding gears and shrieking metal, and the few working lights in the car flickered as the car was thrown from side to side. Most passengers hunkered down in their seats to keep from being thrown off balance. Very few made any sort of conversation.

Tifa usually enjoyed the peace and quiet of the slum train. The quiet helped her collect her thoughts after a long day, but right now, she wanted a distraction. No; _needed_ a distraction. Her mind was a whirlwind of memories and emotions, some good, some bad. All orbited a certain blond-haired man sitting beside her.

Her ruby gaze flicked to Cloud, who had slouched into his seat and leaned against the dividing wall. Her heart ached for him. Ached for his detached expression, his glazed eyes, the trickle of dried blood at his elbow. Clearly he was sick, or injured, and needed help. Tifa bit her lip, unsure what to do. Wherever he had come from, whatever world he slipped out of… it didn't take an oracle to know that it wasn't a good place. So should she even mention it? Should she ask what happened? Or would he bring it up on his own, even if even wanted to talk about it, and she should try for small talk instead?

Tifa tore her gaze away, her hands balled on her knees, and simply didn't know how to act. She hadn't seen Cloud in _seven years._ Seven! And while she had imagined their reunion, she had always pictured it as a warm, touching time. Not… whatever _this_ was.

God, what should she even _say?_

"Are you okay?" she finally asked. Her voice seemed too loud in the car, too out of place, and she bit her lip to keep from saying anything more. This was a mistake. After all, Cloud had _always_ been quiet. If he wanted to talk, he'd talk.

And she didn't expect him to. He didn't seem to have heard her, and instead stared at the opposite wall with a thousand mile stare. His thoughts were clearly elsewhere, clearly somewhere that pained him, and before Tifa's mind could catch up, she found herself reaching towards him, to offer some sort of comfort…

But then Cloud glanced at her, as if her question had finally registered, and smiled. Her hand froze between them. It was a small smile. A sad smile, barely more that an upward twitch of his lips, but it was a smile all the same. "Yeah," he finally said.

Tifa dropped her hand onto his arm, trying and failing to ignore how thin he was, how pale. Well, he had always been slender, and had always been fair-skinned, but… _god._ "Are you sure?" she asked. There was no stopping the worry that bled into her voice.

The mako in Cloud's eyes flared a bit, bright and luminous, before fading back into shades of sea glass. "Yeah."

"What..." The train car suddenly rattled, and cut Tifa off with a harsh squeal of metal. When it calmed, Tifa continued, "What… What _happened_ to you?" Her gaze dropped to the crook of his elbow. "You're hurt. And..." She bit her lip, her voice trailing off.

After a moment, Cloud's gaze followed her own. He blinked at the dried blood, as if noticing it for the first time, before he suddenly winced and his hand flew to his temple. "I..." His breath whistled between his teeth. "I..."

Tifa's hand gripped his arm a bit tighter. Anxiety, mixed with a heady dose of regret, twisted her gut. "Never mind," she said quickly. She pushed him too hard, too quickly. She should have stayed silent. Should have waited for Cloud to bring it up. "Forget I asked."

But Cloud shook his head. "I…" He slowly lowered his hand, slowly blinked at the far wall. His thousand-mile stare had returned, but it seemed a little clearer now, as if he actually saw something wherever he was looking. "I left," he said simply. His voice was quiet but certain. "And I can't go back."

Tifa squeezed his arm, a silent show of support. "Go back where?" she asked, her voice soft. Swallowing, she continued, "Did you… did you leave SOLDIER?"

Cloud glanced at her, his brow furrowed with confusion.

"SOLDIER," Tifa repeated. Her gaze lifted to his eyes – those luminous, green-tinged, sea glass eyes – before dropping to her lap, to her hand fisted against her black skirt. When Cloud made no move to answer, she quietly added, "I noticed your eyes." Lifting her gaze, she continued, "You were in SOLDIER, weren't you?"

Cloud frowned, a mere twitch of his lips, before he nodded. It was a hesitant nod. Unsure.

Maybe he didn't want her to know about it.

"So how did you get to Sector 6?" Tifa asked, changing subjects. "If I had known you were in Midgar," she added with a faint smile, "I would have said hello."

At that, Cloud's expression skewed with confusion. Confusion and a hint of pain, and he pressed a hand against his elbow, an unconscious gesture. "Don't... remember," he finally managed. Her voice was tight with strain, and then he glanced about the train car, at the rows of benches and the scattered people, as if seeing it for the first time. His frown deepened. "Where…"

"We're going back home," Tifa quickly explained. "I'll take you to -" Without warning the train shuddered to a stop, a sharp hiss of brakes and steam. There was a few muffled curses as people were thrown into each other. Cloud, having been leaning against a divider, had been able to keep his balance. He didn't seem too pleased with the jolt though, and pinned Tifa with something that could have been a frown.

"I don't like trains," he stated at Tifa's questioning stare.

At that, Tifa blinked… and then chuckled. She wasn't even sure why, but his tone – the _indignance_ in it – relieved her. Sure, Cloud was out of it for now, but with a clean clothes, a warm meal, and a full night's rest… he'd be just fine.

"I'm sorry," she said, swallowing another chuckle, and helped Cloud to his feet. His eyes suddenly glazed and he swayed against her, but only for a moment, until he was able to find his footing again. Even so, Tifa wrapped her arm around his waist to steady him, and made sure that he was close against her as they stepped off the train. She didn't want him falling into the tracks.

Sector 7 was different from Sector 6. Drabber. Dirtier, with less wood and more metal. Cloud squinted against the streetlamps before tensing.

"What's wrong?" she asked. But Cloud only relaxed, and shook his head in response.

Tifa frowned and glanced around the platform, trying to spot anything that would startle Cloud, but didn't see anything unusual. Maybe it had been the amount of people on the platform. Or maybe it was the constant Sector 7 scent of oil, sweat, and rotten eggs. Goddess above knew that _she_ hated it.

Holding him a bit closer against her, both to provide comfort and support, she exhaled in relief when Cloud followed her lead and began to walk. His footsteps were unsteady and uneven beside her, but at least he was supporting most of his weight. "I live near here, actually," Tifa said, if only to fill in the silence. "It's just a few streets away." She inclined her head towards a path lined with rusting fences and metal sheets, and Cloud's gaze followed her own. "My apartment is a little small, but it'll work for now, until we can find you a place to stay. Unless…" A new thought occurred to her then, and she bit her lip. "Unless you need to leave soon?"

Truth be told, she didn't think Cloud had much of a choice in staying – he certainty wouldn't be going anywhere fast – but even so, it was a relief when he finally nodded.

"Good," Tifa said. The knot of tension uncoiled within her, but only slightly. "Are you hungry?"

At that, she felt Cloud tense again, and he wouldn't meet her gaze when she glanced at him.

"Cloud?"

He shrugged, a jerky movement.

That was answer enough for her. Her expression softened as she turned back to the turn road and said, "Well, _I'm_ starving. And you're lucky," she cheerfully continued, "because I just got back from Sector 6. There's an open air market there. Maybe we can go together sometime, because they have the best apples, pears, and there's a woman that bakes this almond bread..."

Stark realization hit Tifa fast and hard in the gut.

Cloud noticed, because he suddenly turned to her with eyes bright with mako. "Tifa?"

His voice, small and quiet and concerned, jolted Tifa from her thoughts, and she forced herself to smile. "Everything's fine," she said, even as she thought, _Damn it_ _._ She had dropped her groceries at the Sector 6 station and forgot to pick them back up. They were probably still there. No, no they wouldn't – someone would have _definitely_ stolen it all by now. Her breath whistled between her teeth. That had been her favorite basket, too. Not to mention she had bought wine, whine that she had been looking forward to.

_Damn,_ she thought again, just as Cloud shifted against her. "Tifa?" he said again.

She shook her head. "Sorry," she said quickly. Cloud's expression shifted from confusion to concern, but she smiled at him, and his expression smoothed back into blank indifference. "We have food at the bar, so we can get food there. And I think I have clothes that fit you," Tifa added, glanced at Cloud's thin frame.

Color suddenly spotted Cloud's cheeks.

Tifa frowned until she realized why he was blushing, and heat quickly burned her own cheeks. "No!" she said quickly. Cloud only turned away, clearly embarrassed, and she hurriedly continued, "No, I mean, I sometimes help with laundry for the team, and Biggs…" She sighed, a harsh sound. Cloud wouldn't know who Biggs was, and besides, she didn't want him to get the wrong idea. "I mean, I have clean _men's_ clothes that someone forgot to pick up, and you can borrow them. That's what I meant," she added, her shoulder's slumped. "I didn't mean… _my_ clothes."

After a moment, a _long_ moment, Cloud finally nodded. There were still hints of color on his cheeks, but beneath the streetlights – and now the neon glow of the many Sector 7 shops and signs – it was hardly noticeable. In fact, if she didn't know what to look for, his blush wasn't noticeable at all.

Tifa's lips curved into a smile, soft and warm. "Hey, Cloud..."

He glanced at her, expectant.

_I'm glad you're here,_ she wanted to say. But she held her tongue – she didn't want to embarrass him further, after all – and instead said, "We're almost there."

Back at the train station, a shrill whistle pierced the air as the train department.

* * *

In another sector, a different train hummed along the tracks. These tracks were modern, clean, and ran on mako-enhanced magnets so the train cars ran quick and silent along its length. There was no grinding metal. No hiss of steam, or scraping gears, or sudden jolts that clacked teeth together. Not at all. It was comfortable. Peaceful, even, and Aerith had a feeling that she could get used to this.

But perhaps with different company. Tseng sat beside her, his presence heavy and cold, his legs crossed at the knee and his arms crossed across his chest. As Tseng had escorted her to the hospital to visit Zack, he had declared that it was his duty to see her safely returned home for the evening. Zack hadn't liked that, of course. Zack had protested, argued with the Turk, and had even tried to stubborn his way out the door… until a nurse, small and petite and older, _strongly_ told him that he needed to lie down and accept additional treatment to his chest. Or _else._

Aerith smiled a bit at the memory. She had never seen Zack so… so _admonished_ before, and it warmed something in her. At the sheer _humanness_ of it.

And yet, the memory somewhat hurt as well. She wrung her hands in her lap, buried them within the pale fabric of her dress. Zack… worried her. She didn't need to Planet's guidance to sense how fragile he was, how brittle, like the slightest touch could break him completely. It had never occurred to her that Zack _could_ be fragile, brittle, or delicate. In fact, he had always been the opposite. He had been… well, perfect. Perfect in every way. He was strong enough to fight monsters, brave enough to walk under a limitless sky and see the potential beneath it, funny enough to come out of any sort of tragedy with a hint of wisdom and a smile. In her mind, Zack had been something of a sun. Beautiful to look at from a distance, but a part of her was afraid that if she got too close, she would burn away. Burn away until there was nothing left of her but dusk and ash.

But she was not afraid of that any more. No, she was more afraid of what had made Zack so afraid, so – for lack of better word – breakable. What had he seen? What had he experienced? Did she even want to know?

"What are you thinking of?"

A voice, crisp and cool, jolted her from her thoughts. It only takes a moment to regain her composure, and she turned to Tseng, a hint of a smile on her lips. "Curious?" she teased.

"Not at all," Tseng deadpanned.

Aerith giggled at that. "I bet you aren't," she said, and glanced out the window behind her. To the jagged skyline of Midgar, bleak and cold, and the brilliant sunset behind it. At how the falling sun mingled with the grey metal and tinged it colors of red, and orange, and yellow. It hurt her heart to look at. Truth be told, she always liked the sky. She loved the way it changed colors. But every time she stood beneath it on the upper sectors, a basket of flowers dangling from her arm, she couldn't help but feel tense. Like something would swoop down and steal her away.

"Nothing," Aerith finally replied. Tseng glanced at her, startled, and it occurred to her that he hadn't actually been expecting a response. The realization warmed something within her, and she leaned her head against the window pane. Closed her eyes against its chill, and continued, "I'm not thinking of anything at all."


	8. Warm Meals and Motorcycles

"Well, we're here."

Tifa flicked on her apartment light, and a lamp flickered before basking the small room in a warm, golden glow. It room itself wasn't much to look at. There were no decorations of any sort, nothing that indicated that it was hers or that it had been hers for just about five years now. What little possessions she did own were small. Tidy. The bare minimum. Coupled with the stack of unopened boxes left over from years ago, it occurred to Tifa that it looked like she had just moved in… or maybe she was just about to move out. _Well, I guess it doesn't really matter,_ Tifa thought, stifling a frown. _It's better than nothing._ Flashing Cloud a brief smile, she continued, "I know it's not much, but... make yourself at home."

Cloud nodded from his spot against the wall, but Tifa got the sense that he hadn't really heard her. He looked… well, exhausted. His teal eyes were dull and glazed as they slipped over the room, but he didn't seem to be really _seeing_ anything. That, coupled with the faint trembling of his knees and hands, his pallor skin, his blank expression…

Tifa tore her gaze away. _He looks sick,_ she thought, and not for the first time. A familiar worry twisted within her. He had seemed so… so _scared_ at the train station. He had even slapped her hand away, told her not to touch him, and then his small gasp when he finally recognized her, his relief. Like he had thought that she had been someone else.

_But who?_ Tifa thought, chewing her inner cheek. _Who would he be so afraid of?_

Her eyes pricked, but she quickly blinked the sudden emotion away. That wouldn't help her now. She needed to focus. "Anyway," she continued, clearing her throat, "the bathroom and shower is over here." She opened the door to the simple restroom and added, "The water heater doesn't last very long, so if you want a hot shower, you better do it quick. Towels are here -" she tapped on one of the cabinets behind her "- and I think I have a spare toothbrush here… oh, I do." She pulled a toothbrush out of the medicine cabinet, grateful that at least _something_ went right today. "I'll set it beside the sink for you. Shower is all yours. Oh, and let me find you some clothes..."

Cloud's gaze, nearly luminous in the faint light, tracked her as she reentered the main room and went through the laundry hamper. She tried to ignore how intent his stare was, how piercing, or how exposed it made her feel as she held up one of Biggs' green-shirts and a pair of black pants. "It's clean, I promise," she said, holding the articles of clothing against Cloud's thinner frame. "And it looks like it'll fit, too," she added, pleased. "Good. I had hoped they might."

Cloud head tilted as he blinked at the clothes, as if he wasn't entirely sure what he was looking at. "Clothes?"

"Well, you can't go around wearing that," Tifa teased.

Cloud's brow furrowed, a subtle expression, and he glanced down at himself. Blinked at the gray shirt and pants, all dirty and scraped from wherever he had come from. "Right," he finally said.

"Right," Tifa repeated, and placed the shirt and black pants on the bathroom counter. "I'll just put them right here, okay?"

"Okay."

Tifa paused at his tone and stole a glance at him, only to blush when she noticed that Cloud was still staring at her. Suddenly, she would have given just about anything to know what Cloud was thinking. Like if he was happy to be here. Or if he was happy to see her.

Tifa, realizing that she was also staring, tore her gaze away. "Anyway," she continued, impatiently pushing her hair behind her ear, "like I said, the clothes should fit. But we can go shopping tomorrow and get you something better." She glanced at him, her ruby eyes bright and seeking. Searching for a reaction. "How does that sound?"

Cloud blinked at her. Blinked and stared, as if he was trying and failing to process the question, before his chin tilted into something like a nod.

That was good enough for her. Relief warmed Tifa and eased the tension in her shoulders, tension she didn't even know she had. "Great," she continued. "Also, I don't really much food here, so I'm going to drop by the bar for a bit and pick something up. Okay?"

At that, something like apprehension flickered across his face. The mako in his eyes burned a bit hotter, a bit brighter, as if there was a fire churning behind them. "You're... leaving?"

"Only for a few minutes, I promise," Tifa reassured, but suddenly she wasn't sure if it was such a good idea. His voice was been so quiet, his expression so vulnerable – it was as if they were suddenly back on the Sector 6 train platform, and he had just realized she was actually there instead of... whoever he thought she was. Biting her lip, she asked, "Will you okay by yourself?"

Cloud's lips twitched into something like a frown, but then it was gone and he was nodding – a faint jerk of his head.

"Sounds good." Tifa watched him for a moment, her throat tight. "I'll only be ten minutes tops, okay?" Regret flickered through her, but Cloud _did_ say that he would be fine by himself. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel like she didn't trust him or something. Reaching for her keys, she continued, "And when I do come back, I'll have something for dinner." She paused at the door. "Anything you're craving?"

Cloud's head tilted to the side and, after mulling over the question, shook his head. But then he paused, glanced at the floor, and his trembling fingers fidgeted with the sleeves of his sweater. Tifa froze; she _recognized_ that look. It was the same look he had given her a lifetime ago, back when he wanted her to meet him at the water-tower. It meant that Cloud wanted to tell her something, desperately, but wasn't entirely sure how. The memory was so achingly bitter-sweet, that Tifa was smiling without realizing it.

"Tifa..." Cloud's voice was quiet, so quiet, and Tifa found herself straining to listen. "Are…" His gaze jumped to hers. "Are you... sure?"

Tifa blinked in surprise. "About what, dinner? Of course," she said, her tone teasing. "I'm not going to bring you here and not feed you."

"No, that's..." Cloud's gaze flicked to the wall, and his expression minutely shifting into one more like defeat. "Not… dinner."

_Oh._ He didn't have to say anything more. Tifa's smile softened as she realized, _He's asking if it's okay if he stays here._ And the realization warmed something within her, something she had thought was buried, though she didn't exactly know why. "Of _course_ I'm sure," she told him, and her tone left no room for argument. "In fact..." Her voice warmed, grew a little quieter. "I'm more sure about this than anything in a long while."

Cloud's eyes jumped to her, and his expression flickered into something more like concern. "Tifa..."

"No buts," Tifa said, cutting him off. "You're welcome to stay here as long as you need. I don't know what happened to you… before this," she added, biting her lip, "and you don't have to tell me. Truly. But… But just know that I'm here for you. Okay?"

Cloud blinked, uncomprehending, and stared at her a moment too long before color kissed his cheeks – the only indication of his embarrassment.

When Tifa realized that he wasn't going to further comment, she said, "I'll be right back." Disappoint stung her chest, but she was quick to shake it off. She had no right to be disappointed with him. That wouldn't be fair. "Anyway, when I'm gone, help yourself to the shower," she added. Opening the door, and inhaling the distinctly sour Sector 7 slum scent, she glanced over her shoulder and repeated, "I'll be right back. Ten minutes tops."

Cloud's gaze flicked to her. The mako was still burning bright, so bright that the sea glass green nearly overshadowed his natural blue, before the glow faded and he managed a faint nod. Tifa smiled in return – _What does that glow mean?_ \- and closed the door behind her…

...only to lean right back into it, drop her head into her hands, and swallow her sigh. The door was rough and hard against her back. Thoughts and emotions spiderwebbed in her mind, a thick tangle that she didn't have the energy to work through right now.

What was _wrong_ with her today?

* * *

Seventh Heaven was a short, two minute walk from Tifa's apartment, and she knew it so well that she could have walked it blindfolded if she had to. Dirt pillowed her steps as she walked its length, and her brow was furrowed, her sight turned inward. She hadn't really _wanted_ to go to Seventh Heaven tonight, and not because she didn't like the bar. In fact, she _loved_ the bar. She loved everyone who came in, loved the busyness it brought, loved the conversations she'd have, loved listening to music playing through the old jukebox.

But at the same time, she had wanted a break from it all. It was why she went to the Sector 6 market. It was why she had bought so many groceries, and why she had even splurged on a bottle of wine. She just needed to take a step back from Avalanche and everything that came with it. The bombing mission. The lectures on how the Planet was dying, how Shinra was sucking the Planet's life dry, and how they were the only few people standing between it and destruction. Sometimes it became too much.

She was so deep in her thoughts, she had pushed the Seventh Heaven door open without really noticing who was here. "Tifa!" Biggs grinned at her from behind the counter and her head snapped up, surprised at the exclamation, before her expression smoothed into a smile.

"Hi, Biggs." Tifa navigated towards the bar counter, where Biggs was standing on standby. Glancing around the bar, and noting how few tables were busy, she asked, "Quiet night."

"Don't you know it." Biggs leaned against the counter with a sigh, but there was no denying the faint smirk to his lips, or the way the lights danced in his brown eyes. It was obvious how pleased he was with the quiet. It was no secret that out of everyone in Seventh Heaven, Biggs enjoyed working behind the counter the least, with the possible exception of Barret. But that was no surprise. Tifa didn't really know _what_ Barret liked, besides his daughter Marlene and blowing up Shinra reactors, of course.

Tifa took a seat at the bar. "Having fun back there?"

Biggs rolled his eyes. "Alway," he drawled, "but I don't think you came here to talk to me." A smirk brightened his brown eyes. "What can I help you out with? A drink? Food?"

"You know that I always like talking to you, Biggs," Tifa teased, playing along. "But yeah, I actually came to grab some dinner."

"Dinner?" Biggs glanced at her, surprised. "But didn't you go to the market today? The one at Sector 6?"

_Does everyone know about that?_ Tifa wondered with a frown. Who told him - Jessie, maybe? "Yeah, but…" Tifa shrugged, a harsh gesture. "Let's just say that there was some excitement getting back, and I _may_ or may not have dropped all of my groceries."

It was as if a bomb had gone off.

Biggs went deathly still, and suddenly he seemed more statue than man. "Excitement?" he finally repeated, in the same way someone would say, _Someone died?_

Tifa winced at her poor word choice. In their line of work, _excitement_ typically meant that something terrible had happened, like their cover had been blown or someone had been injured. It definitely did _not_ mean meeting old friends you thought were dead, and dropping your favorite basket in the process of getting him home.

Tifa glanced at her hands, at her scarred knuckles, and suddenly wished that she was wearing her gloves. "No... not that kind of excitement." She offered Biggs a small smile, which he only scowled at. "Actually, everything turned out pretty well. Even though I lost my groceries."

Biggs exhaled, a harsh hiss of breath. "Thank god. You had worried me for a second there. Though sorry about your groceries," he added as an afterthought.

"I'm sorry too," Tifa laughed. "I had been looking forward to them."

"I bet." Biggs shifted his weight to his other foot. "But anyway, that's why you're here. You need some dinner." There was a sudden shift in the conversation and he leaned forward, his hands splayed on the hardwood counter. His lips twitched into a smirk, and he continued in a deeper, huskier voice, "What, exactly, can I get for you this fine evening?"

Tifa could help but laugh, even as she rolled her eyes at him. Though Biggs hated working behind the counter, Tifa secretly thought that he enjoyed playing the role of the aloof, mysterious, suave bartender. He even did it surprisingly well too, not that she would ever tell him that. It would _definitely_ go straight to his head.

"I'm not sure," Tifa replied. Her gaze skimmed the counter behind Biggs, her eyes flicking across the refrigerator, the wine cooler, the oven, before finally resting on the stove. Jerking her chin towards it, and the pot simmering on the burner, she asked, "What are you cooking back there?" She couldn't help but notice the way the steam curled out of it, almost like morning mist… _And is that turmeric I smell?_ she thought, inhaling.

Biggs glanced over his shoulder before turning back to her, grinning. "Garden Curry. My speciality," he added as his grin sharpened. "Made with _only_ the finest of ingredients."

Tifa rolled her eyes at his sexy-bartender tone. Despite being a simple dish, Garden Curry was secretly her favorite in the slums. It was basically potatoes and roasted vegetables seasoned with _schier turmeric,_ a common spice, and it had a distinct earthy, spicy flavor that she couldn't get enough of. "That sounds great," she said honestly. "Can I get two of those? Maybe to-go?"

Biggs glanced at her side-eye even as he reached for plastic containers. "Two?" he repeated. Sexy-bartender tone was gone, replaced by something that Tifa couldn't quite identify.

"Not all of it's for me," Tifa said quickly. "I have a guest -"

She regretted her words the moment they left her mouth. Biggs' eyebrow arched so high, it was almost buried by his red headband and brown hair. A knowing smirk immediately followed. "A _guest_ _?"_

Tifa scowled at him. "Not like that. He's -"

"Your guest is a _he_ now?"

_"_ _He_ is an old friend of mine," Tifa finished, piercing Biggs with a glare. "A _friend_ _._ "

Biggs only laughed. "Okay, okay! If you say so." He scooped some of the curry into the containers, chuckling to himself. "Yeesh," he continued, but then a smile, soft and nostalgic, curved his lips. When he turned back to her, the teasing had vanished entirely, and in its place was something she couldn't identify. It threw her off-guard. "Old friend, huh?" His voice had a wistful quality to it.

"Yeah..." Tifa leaned her elbows on the counter, unsure what to make of this sudden change in conversation. "That's right."

"You know..." Biggs handed her the two containers, a soft smile dancing on his lips. "I'm glad for you." Tifa lifted her head at the honesty in his voice, surprised, as he continued, "I've been worrying about you, you know. We all have."

Her lips parted, as if she was about to say something, before closing it once again. Out of all the things he could have said, _that_ hadn't been what she had been expecting. "Worried?" she finally echoed. "About me?"

"Yeah." Biggs shot her an apologetic smile. "We can tell you don't really like the bombing idea. Or even any of the stuff before that, actually. You've always seemed a bit… how do I say this..." He ran a hand through his short hair. "Guarded, maybe? Like you were waiting for the ground to fall out from under you."

Tifa dropped her gaze and clutched the curry containers tighter against her, tighter still, until the warmth seared her hands and warmed the front of her crop top. Biggs wasn't wrong. In fact, he was right. So incredibly right, but to have to said so openly, so point blank... it had hit her like a gunshot and had stolen her breath away. She worried her lip. _Had I always been so obvious?_

"Is your friend staying here long?" Biggs asked, drawing her back into the conversation.

Tifa blinked away the memories she had lost herself in. Blinked, and tried to focus on the warmth that seeped through the thin plastic containers. "Yeah," she said, and managed a smile as recalling Cloud's nod. His promise to stay a while. Her promise to be back in ten minutes. "Yeah, he will be."

"Good." Biggs smiled at her from across the counter. "Maybe you can bring him over tomorrow, and introduce him to everyone."

Suddenly, Tifa could no longer feel the curry's warmth. "But tomorrow's an Avalanche meeting," she pointed out.

"So?" Biggs replaced the lid on the pot. "A friend of yours is a friend of ours. And Avalanche needs all the help it can get," he added.

Tifa felt her heart stutter. This was _exactly_ why she hadn't wanted to come to the Seventh Heaven tonight. All it took was one slip, and suddenly everything was about Avalanche again, about the bombings, about their crazy dream of saving the Planet. And not to mention that introducing everyone to Cloud, and vice-versa, was a terrifying thought. Tifa leaned back on the bar stool, suddenly feeling a bit trapped. What would Cloud think about her joining Avalanche? What would he think of her reasons for joining? Or – and this was the worst of all – what if she ended up dragging him into this chaotic, messed-up world? _God,_ she was going to help them bomb a _Shinra mako reactor_ in _t_ _wo days_ _._ People could _die._

Tifa bit her lip. _Cloud doesn't need to be involved,_ she decided. He clearly had his own problems on his plate, and she couldn't stand the thought of making it worse. What if he got hurt? What if he died, just like her parents, like everyone else in their hometown?

And yet… _and yet…_

"Tifa, if you really hate it that much," Biggs said quietly, "you don't have to."

"It's not that," Tifa immediately lied. Lying was coming easier and easier these days, and she suddenly found herself looking at Biggs, smiling at him, forcing herself to nod despite the guilt burning her throat. "I'll think about it," she promised.

She instantly knew that she'd regret it.

* * *

_Zack laughed as Cloud sat on the ground, scowling as he picked twigs out of hair. "It's not_ _that_ _funny," Cloud practically growled as he threw another stick on the ground. It bounced once before resting beside his leather gloves, which looked as if they had gone through a blender. The rest of his infantry uniform hadn't faired much better. The blue fabric was stained green with grass and leaves, and while his knee guards had provided some protection, his elbows hadn't been so lucky. The cloth had torn, and the skin behind it was scraped and bruised. Cloud's scowl deepened as he twisted his arm to inspect the wound. Behind him was the source of his misery; a motorcycle, the engine long dead, the hull crashed against a tree._

_"_ _Come'on, Spikey," Zack said, clapping a hand on Cloud's back. "It was a_ little _funny."_

_Cloud glowered at him._ _"_ _No it wasn't," he snapped, which only made Zack's grin broaden. Readjusting his knee guards, Cloud muttered under his breath, "I could have died, you know."_

_Zack laughed at how melodramatic Cloud could be. "No way you would have," he said, and jerked his head towards the bike… and the divot leading up to it. "It was just a little fall."_

_Cloud's jaw dropped._ _"_ _I totaled the bike!"_

_"_ _No you did not," Zack drawled. Though, truth be told, it_ had _been an impressive fall. Zack wasn't sure how Cloud had even managed it, but one moment Cloud's expression shifted from joy to horror, and then the next thing Zack knew, Cloud had hit the ground and the motorcycle had ended up against the tree. It had happened so quickly that it was almost impressive. "Listen," Zack continued, "the paint may be a little scuffed, and there may be a little dent, but who cares? It was an old bike."_

_"_ _It's broken!"_

_"_ _Nah, it's not broken. We'll just roll it back to the garage, dust it off, and it'll be like it never happened." Both of them knew that it was a blatant lie. It would take much more than a quick dusting to make the bike look decent, but then again, it was a Shinra infantry bike. At least one of those broke a week. "Really," Zack said, patting Cloud's back, "it's not a big deal."_

_When he had asked Cloud earlier in the day if he had wanted to use the spare bikes to go to town – they had a rare reprieve from their current mission, and it could_ not _be wasted under_ any _circumstances – Cloud had surprised him by saying that he couldn't go, because he didn't know how to drive. That no one had ever taught him. And he had sounded so sad while saying it, so mortified and embarrassed, that Zack had offered to teach him right then and there._

_As it turned out, teaching Cloud how to drive a motorcycle was_ far _more exciting than anything happening back in town. Zack tried and failed to suppress a smirk, which had Cloud's scowl deepening. Who would have thought?_

_"_ _Zack, be honest with me," Cloud suddenly said. The tension in Cloud's voice snapped Zack out of his thoughts, and he then noticed that Cloud was staring at the crashed motorcycle, his blue eyes wide and worried. The scowl was gone. So was his mock outrage, and without turning, Cloud murmured, "How screwed am I, really?"_

_Zack_ _blinked in surprise. "What?"_

_"_ _What do you mean, what? I crashed a motorcycle! I broke it!" With that Cloud turned to him, his blue eyes big and bright beneath the midday sun, and Zack was once again thrown off by how sensitive Cloud could be. That despite Cloud's dry sense of humor, and the occasionally morbidly dark quips that had Zack snickering in meetings, Cloud wasn't nearly as aloof and untouchable as he wanted others to think. That underneath it all, he was really just a kid._

_Hell, they were all just kids._

_"_ _They're going to kick me out, aren't they?" Cloud continued, biting his lip. The way he said it, it was as if it were the worst thing in the world. Worse than dying even, but for Cloud, Zack got the sense that that was partially true. Cloud always had strange priorities._

_Zack reached forward to ruffle Cloud's hair, and was immediately concerned when Cloud didn't push his hand away. "They're not going to kick you out," he promised. "Don't worry about a thing. We'll be just fine."_

_"_ _Well of course_ you'll _be fine," Cloud stated matter-of-factly. "You're in SOLDIER." He tried to smile at Zack, but it didn't reach his eyes and something shifted in his expression, shifted into something a little darker, and he dropped his gaze. Zack frowned. He knew that look, and knew that it meant that Cloud was about to say some self-deprecating nonsense. "I'm just in the infantry," Cloud continued, and he shrugged, sad and small. "They don't exactly give a shit about me."_

_"_ _Aw Spikey, don't say that." Zack ruffled Cloud's hair again, but like before, Cloud didn't react. "I give a shit about you. Us country boys have to stick together," he teased. But when Cloud didn't return his grin, or didn't even offer a dry comment about being a backwater country boy, Zack switched tactics. "How about this?" he said. "I'll take the hit for this one, and you won't have to worry about it. Will that make you feel better?"_

_Cloud's head jerked up, the alarm plain in his eyes. "What? No Zack, you can't." He shook his head, horrified. "You can't do that. You'll get in trouble."_

_"_ _Nah, Angeal won't care. Believe me, he has too much on his plate to care about one stupid bike," Zack stated. It was another blatant lie, but Cloud didn't need to know that. Angeal would_ never _pass up on an opportunity to remind Zack about honor and responsibility. In fact, Zack thought he could hear Angeal's speech right now. "It'll be fine," Zack grinned, trying to think of something else besides his oncoming lecture. "I swear it."_

_Cloud only shrugged. And he looked so pitiful, sitting on the ground all dusty and scraped up and bruised, that Zack's expression softened. "Don't worry, Spikey," he continued, and went to ruffle Cloud's hair again – but this time, Cloud scowled at him and batted his hand away. Zack immediately grinned - it looked like Spikey's going to be okay. "Like I said, don't you worry your pretty chocobo head," Zack said. "I'll protect you."_

* * *

_I'll protect you._

Zack's dark eyelashes fluttered open and he inhaled a harsh, ragged breath. His dream was already fading away, and with it, the warmth of the sun against his skin. The crisp mountain air whispering through the field. Cloud looking up at him, dirt on his cheeks and his blue eyes reflecting the sky above them, his expression torn between worry and relief.

_Cloud's gone._

The realization hit Zack like a blow to the gut. His chest ached; his throat squeezed tight, and suddenly it was hard to breathe. He sat upright, his bandages tightening, and the covers pooled at his waist. _Cloud's gone,_ his mind repeated. And he had no idea where Cloud was, or if he was okay, or if he was afraid and hurting. Zack's hands balled on the sheets. _What if Cloud's scared, or…_ Horror twisted his stomach, twisted like a knife, and Zack leaned forward to rest on trembling arms. _Or what if Hojo found him again? What if -_

He shook his head, a violent gesture. _No,_ he told himself. _No what-ifs. Don't think like that._ He opened his eyes. _Aerith said that Cloud was just visiting a friend._ And if Zack trusted anyone, he trusted Aerith... even if he wasn't sure what she meant, exactly. Cloud didn't exactly _have_ many friends.

_In fact,_ Zack thought, pinching the bridge of his nose, _I_ _may be Cloud's only friend right now._ Even back in the infantry, Cloud had _maybe_ three other friends besides Zack. Cloud probably had some more friends back in Nibelheim, his hometown, but… well, Zack was pretty certain they were all dead after the town burned to the ground. Dead and buried. Zack's eyes glazed; sometimes, he thought could still smell the smoke in the air. Could still hear the screams as people burned alive, and Sephiroth...

Zack grit his teeth against the unwelcome memory and forced himself to sit upright. Forced himself to get out of bed. He needed to focus on the future, and he obviously wasn't going to get any more sleep tonight. Might as well be productive. Maybe even get some training in, like squats or something, before he met with Tseng in the morning.

_And then I'll go with Reno and Rude to find Cloud,_ Zack recalled, remembering his and Tseng's earlier conversation. He stood upright as pinned his gaze on the bed beside his. The empty, cold, hospital bed. _And then I'll find Cloud,_ he swore as he crouched into the first of many squats. His blue gaze was bright and hard. _I swear it._


	9. Intel and Introductions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Lab Flashback

The morning light sifted through the window in golden ribbons, and dust, brightened by its warm glow, danced peacefully in the light. The light continued into the room and ran a soft finger against the cold floor. The two empty beds. The unused IV stand in the corner, the thin tubes carefully coiled, the needle cleaned, sterilized, and removed.

Zack sat on the bed, his back to the light and his expression cast in shadow. On his lap sat Tseng's report. Though the report was thin, not even a dozen pages, it lay heavily on him. It was as if it were made of stone instead of paper, and he felt crushed beneath its weight.

Scowling, he flipped through the report. More than half of the report had been redacted, hidden behind thick black bars, and what remained wasn't very useful. Just vague explanations and descriptions on some eco-terrorist group called Avalanche. He took a bite of toast, but did not taste it.

 _Avalanche…_ He chewed, swallowed. _Where have I heard that name before?_

"So," Zack began, speaking to the suited Turk across from him, "anything you wanted to mention about this?" He lifted the heavily-redacted report in accusation, and the pages bent under their own weight. "Not exactly useful, you know."

Tseng took the report from Zack hand with the elegance of a dancer. Tseng's fingers were thin, Zack noted, and looked as if they made to hold a violin instead of a gun or a sword. Zack's gaze flicked to his own hands; the pale scars spiderwebbing his tan skin, the callouses, and his hand tightened into a fist. How different they were.

"My apologies," Tseng said, unapologetically. "But censorship is standard when employing contractors on the field." _Contractors_ _was_ Tseng's new favorite word when it came to Zack. Zack figured that it sounded a little more professional than _mercenary_ _,_ after all. "As it is," Tseng continued, "we were fortunate that you were allowed to join this mission in the first place."

"But technically, it's not _me_ that joined… is it?" Zack took another bite of toast, and felt a small measure of satisfaction at Tseng's briefly exasperated expression. He continued, "I have a feeling you didn't mention my name when applying for my contract, did you? After all, I'm supposed to be dead." He paused, waiting for Tseng's reaction, but continued when none seemed forthcoming. "That's what Cissnei told me anyway, when she picked Cloud and I up outside of Midgar. That Hojo thinks that Cloud and I are dead and buried."

 _Cloud._ As always, remembering Cloud's escape made his chest ache – and not from his freshly cracked ribs, or the pull of his new bandages. It went far deeper than that.

Tseng cast Zack an unreadable look. "Yes, that's right," he said. But there was something in his tone that narrowed Zack's gaze, and he found himself tensing despite not knowing why. "And you are correct that I did not give out your true name. You'll be working under an alias, and in complete anonymity." He pinned Zack with his dark gaze, and added, "It's up to you to keep it that way."

Zack knew a threat when he heard one, and a tic worked in his jaw. "What will happen if I don't?"

"Nothing good," Tseng promised. "Even the Turks wouldn't be able to protect you then."

He didn't need to say protecting from what… or who.

"I don't need protecting," Zack said quickly. But it was lie, and he knew that Tseng knew that as well. Zack's hands unconsciously drifted across his chest, and his fingertips traced the bandages' edges as his mood sour further. Poor sleep and worry were making him short-tempered. That wasn't good; he needed a level head for this mission, not to mention that he also wanted to be at his best when and he visited Aerith later.

_Aerith._

Just remembering her name, her face, eased the tight knot of tension that had coiled inside of him. He could almost feel her slender fingers smoothing all of his jagged edges, one-by-one, even though she wasn't even here. Her memory always had that affect on him, and he inhaled. It was a little easier to breathe.

 _I'll have to buy her something nice,_ he thought, glancing out the window. _I have four years to make up, after all._

The thought cheered him a bit. "Don't worry," Zack continued, and turned back to Tseng. Tseng minutely scowled at Zack's smile, the smirk in his eyes, his suddenly sunnier disposition. "If I can bust ass from Nibelheim to Midgar with a comatose Spikey," he added, leaning forward, " _while_ dodging the infantry and the Turks the entire time, then I think I'll be able to handle one small intel-gathering mission."

"Not the entire time," Tseng gently reminded.

Zack's sudden optimism wilted a bit – Tseng was right, he and Cloud hadn't made it all the way to Midgar by themselves – but he forced it out of his mind. Sure, maybe they had needed a little help towards the end, but that didn't matter. What mattered is that it had been a hopeless situation, but he hadn't given up. He could be proud of that. He _should_ be proud of that.

"Don't worry about the details," Zack replied, and winked at Tseng, rending the Turk momentarily speechless. "You'll get wrinkles."

Tseng didn't really know how to respond to that, so he didn't. Clearing his throat, he only continued, "To return to the subject at hand… You will be accompanying Reno and Rude throughout Midgar. I just returned from debriefing them on your situation, and they have agreed to assist when possible. You, Reno, and Rude will first patrol the upper plates, where a potential Avalanche member was last seen, before moving to the lower plates."

"You mean the slums," Zack stated.

Tseng's lips thinned. "Yes," he confirmed. "The slums."

"We should be searching the lower plates first." Zack shook his head. "I've _been_ to the upper plates, and Cloud wouldn't be there. Trust me," he added at Tseng's incredulous look. "You don't know Spi – don't know Cloud like I do."

"You would do well to recall that Strife isn't in his right mind," Tseng smoothly replied. He took a step closer to the door. "Listen to your orders, mercenary. You _will_ be searching the upper plates first."

"But that's a waste of time," Zack protested.

Tseng's eyes flashed. "Is the Turk ability to gather intelligence and our nearly unlimited access to restricted areas a _waste of time?"_ Zack blinked – had he managed to make Tseng _actually_ upset? Like, he had seen Tseng mad before, but _visibly_ mad…

"I know that you are impatient to find Strife," Tseng continued, "but believe me when I say this is your best option. Recall that Midgar is _owned_ by Shinra. You, essentially, will be working underneath the nose of the same company that locked you and Strife away for four years." Zack's expression darkened, but before he speak, Tseng seamlessly added, "But now that you have full support of the Turks, you can search for Strife unhindered. A rare opportunity indeed," he pointedly added, "and you would be wise to not let this chance pass."

Zack blinked, stunned at Tseng's lecture, before he turned away, dully chastised. His breath whistled between his teeth. Tseng certainly had an articulate way of making him feel young and stupid. "Whatever," Zack finally said, and impatiently ran a hand through his hair. "When do we leave?"

Tseng glanced at his watch, and stated, "Two hours." Reaching for the door, he continued, "I'll collect you at that time."

Two hours sounded like an eternity – Zack wanted to search for Cloud _now –_ but he wasn't in the mood for a second lecture. "Sounds good to me," he said instead. Tseng nodded, his expression almost relieved, and opened the door… but then Zack's eyes widened with dawning horror. "Hold on. Wait." Tseng paused, one eyebrow arched. "Where's my sword?" Zack's hands clenched on the bed sheets, his knuckles white. "I had it with me in the Midgar wastes, but then…"

 _But then I passed out,_ Zack recalled with a sinking feeling. His head snapped to the window, and he stared through the glass as if he was looking over the Midgar cliffs instead of the jagged Midgar skyline. _Don't tell me… Is it somewhere in the Midgar wastes?_ He blanched. _Oh god, what if -_

"Ah, your sword," Tseng said suddenly, cutting him off. Zack's head snapped to him, wide-eyed, as the Turk continued, "The sword in the armory, along with other mission-appropriate gear. Though," the Turk added, "I would recommend leaving it if you journey to the upper plates, as the Buster Sword is very distinctive. The wrong person could easily identify you."

Zack stared at Tseng as if he had grown a second head. "I'm bringing it," he stated, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

Tseng sighed, betraying just how exasperated he was. "I would not recommend -"

"I'm _bringing_ it," Zack repeated, and there was an edge to his tone that had Tseng sighing again.

"If you must." With that Tseng pushed the door open, and a cold draft whispered into the room. "I will return in two hours to escort you to the armory." He stepped into the hallway, but then he paused. Zack frowned, expectant. "Fair, what do you know of mako poisoning?" Tseng suddenly asked.

Zack blinked in surprise. "Mako poisoning?" _Talk about changing subjects,_ he thought with a scowl, before lifting his hands in surrender. "To be honest, not much, besides what I experienced with Cloud." And he tried not to think about that - the perpetual coma, the thousand-mile stare, the vomiting, the constant trembling, the occasional mumble. "Health science wasn't my forte back in SOLDIER training."

"I see." Tseng's lips parted as if he was going to say more… but then his expression slipped back into indifference and he turned back to the hallway. "Like I said," he began at Zack's questioning stare, "I'll return in two hours. You'd do well to prepare yourself, and perhaps finish your breakfast. You'll need the strength."

Zack cast a look at his breakfast tray – toast, plain oatmeal, and orange juice – before grinning at Tseng. "Yes, mother. Anything else?"

"No," Tseng deadpanned, and quite nearly slammed the door behind him.

* * *

_"_ _Don't struggle, Sample C." A voice echoed through the dark, but the words were twisted, their meaning lost. "This'll hurt more if you do." There was a ringing in Cloud's ears. Ringing like a thousand birds were chirping in his head, and suddenly Cloud was thinking about birds. That he couldn't remember the last time he saw a bird._ _Or the sky_ , _he recalled. Suddenly his eyes were burning, his throat tight. Something hot and wet traced a path down his cheek._

 _There was a harsh sigh above him, exasperated and annoyed. Then there was a rustle of fabric - "I told you not to give C so much anesthesia," - and then Cloud realized something had been covering his face, realized that he hadn't been able to see for a while now, and terror spiked through him. He wanted it off, wanted it gone, but then he noticed that he couldn't move his arms. And that he couldn't_ feel _his arm, or his fingers even, and suddenly he was strikingly aware of how cold he was. His teeth chattered, a hushed staccato. It was even colder than home during winter, and then he found himself missing home. Missing watching the snow fall, and missing hiking through the mountains, and missing hot chocolate. And missing Mom..._

_Fire flashed behind his closed eyes and a faint sound escaped his lips, a cross between a breath and a choke._

_"_ _Be quiet, C." He felt a pinch at the crook of his elbow; a pinch, a sudden hiss of pain, and he made a small sound deep in his throat. But then it was over, just as quickly as it had come, and then he was falling back into the dark. Falling… and falling… and falling…_

* * *

Cloud woke up with a jolt.

An unfamiliar room flickered across his vision and he jackknifed upright, his chest heaving. A cold sweat sticking his hair to his forehead, and he shakily pushed the golden strands aside. His dream, disjointed and heavy and unfamiliar, took its time fading back into the dark in his mind. Yet even after it was gone, the sensations still lingered on his skin. The cold. Something strapping him down to a table. A pinch in the crook of his elbow, sudden and sharp. Cloud winced and rubbed the spot with his hand in an attempt to sooth that particular feeling away. It only semi-worked, so he tried to focus on something else. _Anything_ else.

His gaze, luminous in the dark, flicked across the room. At the bed opposite him, the covers mused. At the sunlight peaking through the window curtains. At his own clothes, foreign and a size too large, and wondered, _Where am I?_ But even as the thought crossed his mind, recollection bubbled into his awareness, warm and welcome. This was Tifa's apartment.

Sudden relief made him lightheaded, and he had to lean back against the wall to keep from sliding over. _Tifa's apartment,_ he thought again, and the small fact wrapped around his mind like a blanket, calming him, comforting him. He held his trembling hands tight against his chest. _Safe,_ he told himself. _It's safe now._

Though he wasn't sure from _what_ _,_ exactly.

His heart's harsh staccato slowly began to even as he gazed at the room with fresh eyes. Memories, disjointed and blurry, tugged at him in sudden flashes. Rain hitting his cheeks. The slap of bare feet on a metal stairwell. Someone familiar shouting his name. Then tripping in an alleyway, a hiss of pain as skin tore, followed by the harsh whistle of a train echoing in his head.

And then there was Tifa.

Cloud closed his eyes as her image swelled within him. Suddenly his fragmented memories were _all_ Tifa. He could almost see her face hovering inches from his, could almost feel her strong arm wrapped around his waist. Could hear her voice as she spoke to him, her tone soft and strong, as she guided him down the road...

… but suddenly it wasn't Tifa but someone else holding him upright, a man with dark hair, an easy smile, and bright, mako-blue eyes...

Cloud's eyes snapped open. _Zack?_ he thought, but then pain slit across his temple. He pressed his hand against it, his breath whistling between his teeth. _But that's… impossible._ He blinked, his vision going blurry with every pointed ache. _Zack's dead. At Nibelheim, on the stairs, I saw him…_ A strangled noise tore out of his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut against the memory, against the pain drilling its way between his eyes, against _whatever_ had happened afterwards, and then…

… and then it was gone. The memories shattered into fragments and faded back into his mind's murky dark, and he sagged against the wall. Cloud found himself blinking at his surroundings once again, uncertain. Confused.

_Where…?_

_Oh, right._ The answer came immediately: He was in Tifa's apartment _._ He stared blindly into the far wall, feeling lightheaded and strangely breathless. He lifted a hand to his face. His fingers, pale and scarred, trembled in front of him.

But that's not what grabbed his attention.

 _The hell?_ Distracted from the memories and his crushing headache, Cloud opened and closed his hand. His frown deepened; the muscles seemed to be responding much more quickly than before. It was if there had been a faint delay previously, like a small block between him wanting to move his hand and his hand actually moving, but now that barrier seemed to have been broken down. His hand snapped open and closed with hardly a thought and he effortlessly quickened the pace, his fingers little more than a blur in front of him. _How is this -_

A low growl from his stomach snapped him back to the present. With a start, he realized that he was _starving._ Like he hadn't eaten in days.

His freaky hands could wait, he decided. He lifted his head, and noticed that there was a refrigerator across from him. Tifa wouldn't mind, right? But as he began to push himself up to his feet, he was suddenly upright, his arms cartwheeling as he nearly slammed back into the wall.

 _It's not just my hands,_ he suddenly realized with dawning horror. Adrenaline burned through his veins, shrill and burning, as he sat frozen for a moment. He was almost afraid to move, afraid that he would accidentally launch himself in the wrong direction. _Everything_ was responding much faster than before.

But his stomach gurgled again, reminding him that unless he wanted to stay hungry, he had to get to the fridge. Sucking in breath, he gingerly pushed himself off the wall and took a careful step forward, and then another. Every step was little too quick, a little too shaky, a little too precise, and it took all of his focus to not trip over his own feet. It made him uneasy. He didn't like being unfamiliar with his own body. Didn't like feeling like his body wasn't _his_ anymore.

And yet, the strangest aspect to all of this was that physically, he felt almost fine. His earlier headache had vanished. His bruised elbows and knees were nearly completely healed. In fact, strangely enough, he felt pretty good. Certainly much better than yesterday.

It also occurred to him on his slow, careful walk to the fridge that Tifa wasn't in the apartment anymore. He vaguely recalled her saying last night that she was picking up dinner, and that she had still been gone even after he had finished showering. He also remembered that she still hadn't come back before his sheer exhaustion overpowered his desire to stay awake and wait for her. In fact, he had no idea what time he had eventually fallen asleep, and had no idea what time it was now, for that matter.

 _So did she ever come back?_ he wondered as he gingerly opened the refrigerator door, taking care not to move too quickly and accidentally rip off the handle. _Or did she leave again early this morning?_ His eyes flicked across its meager contents until they rested on a to-go container, one that had a sticky note attached to it.

 _Cloud,_ was all the note read.

 _She must have left it for me last night,_ he realized, and though it had been years, Cloud immediately recognized Tifa's handwriting. His eyes traced the hard edges of her letters, their delicate curves, the way she made the "C" swallow the rest of his name, before his attention returned to the container itself. It was filled with rice and some sort of thick, brown stew, and it took him a moment to realize that it was not stew but curry. His eyes widened a fraction. He couldn't even _remember_ the last time he had curry – _maybe back in the infantry?_ \- and his mouth watered as he grabbed it and carefully returned to his corner. He ate the curry cold, and it was by far the best thing he had ever tasted.

But when he finished, he had a new conundrum: Tifa was still gone, and he had no idea what to do with himself. He had no idea when she would get back, and while he toyed with the idea of going outside and looking for her, the thought of leaving the apartment made him uneasy. He didn't want to go outside alone.

So he decided to be productive and practice walking instead. He started with short walks from his corner to the bed, and when he didn't trip or accidentally fling himself into the wall, he then added the distance from his corner to the door. When his gate had smoothed and his balance evened, and he decided that he could certainly pass as _normal_ if he paid attention, he decided to brush his teeth. If Tifa wasn't back when he was done, _then_ he would look for her. Just in case she was in trouble.

But when Cloud entered the small restroom, he froze. His reflection – unfamiliar, strange, and foreign – stared back at him, mirroring his wide-eyed, stunned expression. Slowly, smoothly, he lifted his hand until his fingertips hovered centimeters over his eyes.

His glowing, sea-green, mako-enhanced eyes.

His breath trembled between his teeth. A part of him wanted to backpedal, to stop staring, to run out of the room and go somewhere else. And yet he remained frozen in spot, his knees locked and feet rooted, as the mako-green in his eyes flared and pulsed against his pupil, a ring of fire against the night, before bleeding into the surrounding, familiar blue.

_These aren't my eyes._

Nausea welled up within him and he clamped his mouth shut, slammed a hand against his lips, until he could taste copper. He couldn't be sick. He wouldn't, he had to keep it together, and so he stared at his unfamiliar, SOLDIER eyes until his stomach stopped twisting and his hands didn't tremble as much. He stared until his eyes lost their novelty. Finally, he lowered his hand to grip the edge of the sink instead. He was only numbly aware to not grip too hard, that he didn't want to break the sink, that that would cause problems for Tifa.

_When did this happen?_

The thought slipped through his mind, unbidden and unwanted, and adrenaline made the mako flare brighter until the emerald practically swallowed the surrounding sapphire. Cloud thickly swallowed, and continued to stare. Stare at how the mako seemed to breath like a living thing, like it was a foreign thing alive within him, a parasite of some sort.

 _When?_ He squeezed his eyes shut at the faint throb between his eyes. _How?_ He didn't remember getting SOLDIER therapy. He didn't recall even _making_ _it_ into SOLDIER. All he remembered was...

The throb expanded into a steady ache, and he clenched his jaw against it. _Did something happen after the… the reactor?_ His mind snapped back to his most recent memory: his home burning to the ground, the taste of ash and smoke in the air, the sharp tang of the mako reactor. Sephiroth, his slitted eyes green with burning mako, as he skewered him through the lung…

Cloud's breath hitched and he slapped his hand against his chest, against the ghostly feeling of being impaled.

 _What... What happened after?_ His gaze dropped down, as if reassuring himself the sword was no longer there, that it was long gone. _How did I get… here?_

He gazed back into the main room into Tifa's apartment. _I don't remember_ _._ He didn't remember, everything was black between Nibelheim and here – wherever the hell _here_ was – and everything he did remember was snippets. Fragments of fragments, just disjointed images of green and cold, and he closed his eyes against them. _Why can't I…_ A shudder shivered down his back and his eyes involuntarily flicked to the trash can. His old clothes were still inside, and he could make out their dull gray cotton, the droplets of dried blood staining the arms and knees, the dirt stains. He stared at them as if they had all of the answers. Like they knew something he didn't.

 _Those are hospital clothes,_ he realized suddenly. He almost pulled them out of the trash can, if only to inspect them further, but then he decided that he didn't want to. That he didn't _want_ to touch them. Didn't want anything to do with them in fact, so he stared instead. _Maybe I was in an… an accident? After the reactor?_ He glanced at the mirror again, saw how brightly his mako eyes were burning, and tore his gaze away. _Maybe something to do with SOLDIER therapy?_

He turned his attention back to his clothes in the trash. He didn't remember what had happened, but an _accident_ seemed to fit the situation just fine. Deciding to stick with it, at least for the time being, he inhaled a steadying breath and turned back to the mirror.

His eyes weren't the only thing that seemed different. If he looked closely, he also _looked_ different. He seemed older, somehow. He was taller than he remembered. Thinner, too. If he lifted his shirt, he could clearly make out the valleys between his ribs, could see the hills his hips made in his black pants. But his shoulders were also broader. His chest was wider, somehow, and his face had lost some of its baby fat. His jaw was more defined, his cheekbones more pronounced. Cloud ran his fingers against his jaw, wide-eyed, uncertain. He didn't recognize himself anymore. It was like staring at a stranger, like it was a stranger's body, and he was just visiting.

He leaned back, stunned. _What_ happened _to me?_

Suddenly, the front door clicked open. It was so unexpected that Cloud jumped, and that small jolt was enough to have him falling backwards. He hit the wall with a dull _thud_ just as the door opened, and Tifa stepped into the apartment.

"Cloud?" she called out. Light streamed into the room as she turned on a light.

For a moment, Cloud didn't respond. He couldn't. Like himself, Tifa looked _different_ somehow, like she was older, too. But not _older_ older, like _age_ older, but more... mature, or something. It had Cloud's mind reeling. He couldn't make sense of it. How long had he been in the… well, the hospital, judging by his old clothes in the trash. Days? _No, couldn't have been days,_ he thought. Maybe months? _More?_

"Cloud?" Tifa said again, louder now that she noticed he wasn't asleep in the corner, before she noticed him on the bathroom floor, staring at her. Her eyes widened a fraction until she realized that he wasn't hurt, just dazed and staring at her. "What are you doing?" she finally asked. There was something like genuine curiosity in her tone.

"Um." He had no good response to that. He wasn't even sure how to explain, how to summarize his fragmented thoughts and emotions, so he didn't bother. "I… tripped?"

Tifa frowned at him. "If you say so..." she replied, and then sat in the desk chair, sighing a little, before she turned back to him and smiling. But it was a tight smile, maybe even a little bit sad, and she asked, "How are you feeling?"

Cloud grimaced, a faint tightening of his expression. He didn't want to talk about how he was feeling. In fact, that was the _last_ thing he wanted to talk about.

"Cloud?" Tifa suddenly sat a bit straighter, as if sensing his silent distress. "You're a little pale. Did something happen while I was gone?"

The last thing Cloud wanted Tifa to do was worry, so he shook his head _no._ "I... Are you okay?" he asked instead, changing the subject. He slowly, carefully, picked himself off the floor, and was grateful that he had practiced walking before Tifa had arrived. He thought he did a good job as he slowly sat on the floor across from her bed, and leaned against the wall. As Tifa continued to watch him, her brow furrowed with worry, he continued, "You seem... not happy."

No one could accuse Cloud of being eloquent, but Tifa only smiled and said, "I'm fine." But she said it a little too quickly, and Cloud's lips twitched in a frown. Seeing that Cloud was going to comment further, she sighed and added, "I was just at the bar."

Cloud's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Bar?" he said, and he nearly added, _This early?_ But he kept his mouth shut, just in case she took it the wrong way.

"Yes, the bar. But not for a drink or anything," she added, chuckling at his expression. "I work there, remember? But don't worry if you don't," she added, when Cloud's expression tipped from concern to confusion. "You were pretty out of it yesterday."

Cloud couldn't help but agree with that one, and nodded.

"So, how are you feeling?" Tifa asked again. "Better? Worse?"

"Better," Cloud promised. It wasn't a lie, not entirely. All he remembered of yesterday was bits and pieces of fragments of memories, and trying to remember it all felt a bit like trying to sing a song, but only knowing every fourth word, every fifth note. There was nothing solid to hold on to. Nothing of substance. It was like his head was made of cotton. Compared to that, he was doing pretty well.

Which reminded him. He pulled his legs tighter against his chest, already feeling heat flush his cheeks, and he dropped his gaze to the floor. Traced the patterns in the old carpet, and said, "And… thanks." His voice was a whisper in the room, little more than a ghost passing through. "For… well…"

His voice trailed off entirely when Tifa placed a hand on his arm. It was soft, and warm, and reassuring, and it took all of Cloud's control not to jerk away. He hadn't even noticed that Tifa had gotten up. That she had knelt down in front of him, her expression kind, her eyes soft and searching.

"You don't have to say anything," she told him. She was smiling at him again, but not like her earlier smile, which had been tight and edged and forced. This was a real smile. It was welcoming and had a certain warmth to it that made Cloud feel like he belonged, even just a tiny bit.

Suddenly, it was hard to swallow past the lump in his throat.

"You don't have to say anything," Tifa said again. "Not until you're ready, and even then, it'll still be your choice, okay? I don't know what happened to you... before, but I'm here for you." She lightly squeezed his arm, an expression of solidarity. "Okay?"

Cloud's cheeks burned and a part of him wanted to disappear, but another part of him - a much larger part - wanted to bottle up this moment and carry it with him forever. He managed a small nod, and wished that he could do something more. Maybe make a promise in return. Or maybe say that he was there for her, too. But the words were trapped in his throat.

His gaze flicked to hers, the mako in his eyes burning bright. "Tifa..."

Tifa suddenly removed her hand, as if she had been stung, and disappointment flicked through Cloud. Had he said something wrong? Was it the wrong thing to say?

But he didn't have the chance, because she suddenly sat down on the bed again. "How did you like the curry?" she continued, her voice too high, too fast. She impatiently brushed her hair behind her ear. "Did you like it?"

Cloud's head jerked to her, caught a bit off guard. "Y – Yeah."

"Good!" she replied, and suddenly stood up. Confused, uncertain, Cloud watched Tifa move through the room like a storm. She smoothed her bed sheets, stacked the papers on her desk, double checked that her keys were on the night stands. "I was hoping you'd like it," she was saying. "Garden Curry is my favorite down here in the slums, and plus it's cheap. There's so much I want to show you -"

But whatever she was about to say was lost on Cloud. His mind had grabbed a hold of the word _slums,_ and it demanded his absolute attention. His mind twisted the word about, turned it every which way, analyzed it, weighed it. _Slums._ He wasn't too familiar with cities; his life in Nibelheim and the infantry pretty much guaranteed that, as he had been assigned to more rural areas due to his background. But if he thought of the word _slums,_ there was only one city that came to mind.

"Tifa," he finally said, and his voice quiet, a mere shiver between them. Tifa stopped mid-sentence and watched him, her eyes worried, his expression unreadable. Forcing his expression into something like neutrality, he continued, "Where… are we?"

Tifa's eyes widened a fraction, but then she turned away, her expression torn. Guilt hissed through Cloud, and he immediately regretted asking. It had made Tifa sad, somehow, and he didn't know how to make it better. She wasn't even looking at him anymore. It was like she had gone a thousand miles away, and he couldn't reach her anymore.

"Midgar," Tifa finally said. She said word _Midagr_ like a prayer and a curse, all wrapped up in one. "We're in Midgar," she continued, "in the Sector 7 slums." She glanced at him, her eyes searching, as if she was waiting for something.

But Cloud had nothing to offer her. Nothing to give. His expression remained blank, masking just how surprised he was, how uneasy. _Midgar. Sector 7. The slums._ He had been hoping that knowing where he was jostled something in his mind, something he had forgotten about being in SOLDIER or the SOLDIER therapy or anything about whatever accident that had landed him in a hospital, but he got nothing. Not even a headache.

And Midgar was a _long_ way from Nibelheim. Why was he _here,_ of all places? _Maybe because the SOLDIER headquarters is here?_ Cloud thought. It was a stretch, but it was the only explanation that fit everything: his body, his eyes, the location. It was all he had to go off of.

"Cloud?" Tifa suddenly said, and her voice cut through his flimsy, murky thoughts. "Are you sure you're okay?"

He blinked the fog away. "I'm... fine," he managed. "Really."

"Really?"

"Really," he promised.

"Are you..." Tifa watched him for a moment, her expression suddenly unreadable. "No… never mind."

Cloud's lips curved into a small frown. "Never mind… what?"

"Nothing," Tifa said, much too brightly. "Nothing at all." Leaning forward on the desk chair, she asked, "Is there anything you want to do today? Or do you want to rest a little bit?"

Cloud's expression smoothed. _Resting_ did sound nice. His head, though much clearer than yesterday, still felt a bit murky. Muddled even, and he was still reeling from his mako-eyes, his unfamiliar, SOLDIER-esc body.

And yet he was restless. He itched to move, to do something, to breathe outside, free air instead of suffocating in these four walls. He didn't want to venture outside alone, but if Tifa was there...

"Maybe outside?" he finally said.

Tifa sat back down on the bed, and the old mattress creaked beneath her. "We can do that. As long as you're feeling up to it."

Cloud nodded. "And, Tifa..." He was suddenly aware of just how quietly he was speaking, and tried to be a little louder. "What were you trying to say, earlier?"

Tifa blinked in surprise, and then she smiled again. But it was a tight smile. An uneasy smile, and she replied, "You're not going to drop it, huh?" Cloud shook his head _no,_ and she sighed. "Well… I was going to ask if you felt well enough to meet some friends of mine."

Cloud arched an eyebrow. _Friends?_

"They work at the bar with me," she continued. "Among… other things."

 _Other things?_ Cloud wasn't sure if he liked the sound of that. "Right now?"

"Not if you don't want to," Tifa said hurriedly. "You had a… a tough day yesterday, and I don't want you to exhaust yourself. There's really no rush to meet them."

"Tifa..."

"Really, Cloud," Tifa continued. "There's no rush at all. I mean that, truly."

Cloud heard her. Heard her words, but something in them sounded off. Something in her voice bellied just how uneasy she was, and that made Cloud feel uneasy, too. "Do you... not like them?" he finally asked.

Tifa's eyes widened in surprise. "No! I mean, yes, I _do_ like them. I… They're like family to me. It's just..." Her voice trailed off, and Cloud patiently waited for her to continue. Waited, and waited, until Tifa finally shook her head and said, "Well, I guess... I'm not sure if they'll be good for you, Cloud."

Out of all the responses, _that_ hadn't been what he had been expecting. His eyes widened a fraction, and the mako within them burned a bit brighter, a bit hotter. "Not good for me?"

"Yeah. Wait, no! No, like they're not bad people. More like… a bad influence?" Now it was Tifa's turn to wince at her poor word choice. "I just… don't want to get you involved in anything bad. Especially since yesterday you were so, well… I was worried about you, Cloud. I hadn't seen you in so long, and you looked so hurt." Cloud's lips twitched into a frown; he didn't remember much of yesterday, but he suddenly wished he could do it over, so that she would be less concerned about him. "And I don't want to rush you into anything, especially something potentially dangerous. Does that makes sense?"

 _Dangerous?_ Cloud's frowned and wondered who, exactly, were these friends of hers. "But you can?" At Tifa's blank expression, he added, "Get involved in dangerous things."

Tifa sighed. "I didn't mean that, either."

Cloud watched her for a moment. Watched her gaze fall to the floor, watched her eyes shine as if she was going to cry, watched her shuffle her feet as she waited for him to say something. His chest tightened. Tightened with something he couldn't identify, and he suddenly felt like he had to do something. He wanted her to be happy.

"Tifa." Her head jerked up as his soft, tentative voice. "I'll meet your friends. But if anything is wrong… tell me." He scanned her expression, searching for any hint of _wrongness,_ but couldn't see anything. "I made you a promise."

He didn't have to say _what_ promise, exactly. There had only been one.

For a moment Tifa only stared at him, her eyes wide and lips parted in shock. Cloud found himself fidgeting beneath the intensity of her gaze. _What that wrong thing to say?_ he wondered – he seemed to be full of wrong things to say this morning – but then she smiled at him. Smiled as if he had hung the stars in the sky, and said, "I remember."

* * *

_"_ _This_ scrawny-ass kid used to be in SOLDIER?"

Cloud leaned against the wall of Seventh Heaven and regretted. He wished that he back at Tifa's apartment, or anywhere else but here really, and he crossed his arms over his chest as he glowered at the man standing in front of him. No; not _standing_ in front of him. _Towering._ The man, Barret, was far taller and more muscular than any man Cloud had ever met before. Coupled with how loud he was, how impossibly large, and the semi-automatic machine gun that replaced his artificial arm… well, Cloud would be lying if he said he wasn't a little intimated.

But he reminded himself that Shinra had been full of bullies like this guy, and Cloud – who had always been on the shorter, leaner side – had plenty of experience dealing with them. He lifted his chin and met Barret's gaze, his bright eyes luminous beneath the dim bar lights, and schooled his expression into cool indifference. Truth be told, there wasn't much else he could do. The walk to the bar had exhausted him, though he would never admit that to Tifa, and he _certainly_ wouldn't let this asshole know just how tired he currently was.

Cloud's indifferent stare only seemed to anger Barret further. " _Hell_ nah," Barret continued, his arms waving dramatically as he talked. The bar lights glinted off his gun. "There is _no_ damn way."

"But Barret," said another man; _Wedge_ _,_ Cloud vaguely remembered Tifa saying. "Just look at his eyes." Wedge was sitting by the bar, a sandwich in one hand and his other propping up his head. He took another bite of the sandwich and chewed it, thoughtfully, as he stared at Cloud. "At the mako in them."

"Those _are_ SOLDIER eyes," finished Tifa's other friend, Biggs. "No mistaking it." Cloud noticed that Biggs was wearing the same thing that he was, which explained where Tifa had gotten the clothes.

 _Which I need to ask her about,_ Cloud thought, his lips tilting into a scowl. The only difference was that Biggs was also wearing tactical gear over his shirt, not to mention that he filled his clothes out much better that Cloud did, and Cloud self-consciously shifted his weight to his other foot.

"Must have been some mistake!" Barret shouted. "I mean, little at 'im! Skinny as hell, n'probably had never lifted a sword in his life!"

Cloud forced his expression into neutrality. If he was being honest, he couldn't really blame Barret for being doubtful – _even if he was being a total ass about it,_ he thought darkly. He couldn't really believe it, ether. Him, in SOLDIER? Just like that? It seemed too good to be true. Not to mention that he had no memory of it, besides some shoddy situational evidence like his eyes, his new reflexes, and his old hospital clothes filling the trash.

The woman sitting beside Wedge – _Jessie,_ Cloud vaguely recalled, suddenly smirked at him, effectively cutting his thoughts off half-way. "And his eyes are _so_ dreamy," she practically purred. "Look at those baby blues." Turning to Biggs, she added, "Don't you think his eyes are dreamy?"

"No, I don't," Biggs deadpanned.

Jessie laughed, and Cloud tried not to blush. Blushing would _not_ help the situation any. Besides, weren't SOLDIERs supposed to be cool, and composed, and collected? And blushing at a compliment was _none_ of that. Just the opposite, in fact. He had to keep it together.

But he couldn't stop himself from glancing at Tifa. He wasn't sure way, exactly. Maybe he was hoping that she would say something in his defense, or change the conversation, or maybe even agree with Jessie's comment. But she remained rigid at his side, her expression hard and unreadable. It had Cloud's lips tilting into a frown. Tifa and these… people… were supposed to be her friends, right?

So why was she so upset?

 _Well,_ he thought, dimly recalling their childhood and all of the stupid boys that would follow her around, _she has never had the best taste in friends._

Except for him, of course.

If they were even friends.

Were they?

"What is it?" Tifa asked him, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Cloud blinked, suddenly realizing that he had been staring and tore his gaze away, kicking himself over it. _Don't be weird,_ he ordered himself, and said, "Nothing." Tifa continued to watch him, her brow furrowed in worry, so he distracted himself by continuing to observe Tifa's other... friends.

He didn't exactly like what he saw. They watched him like they were sizing him up, weighing him on a scale and applying rules that he didn't know, that he didn't understand. It almost felt like he was being inspected under a microscope.

_A microscope..._

Pain flicked across his temple, and Cloud dug his fingers into his arms to keep from gasping. The pain faded immediately, a small blessing, but the bar seemed a little brighter all of a sudden. The walls felt a little smaller, the ceiling a little lower. His breath caught in his throat, and he decided that he needed air. Outside air. He needed to leave, before he got trapped here, before -

But then he felt a sudden hand on his arm, a slight squeeze, and his gaze dropped to see Tifa still watching him. She didn't say anything, but she didn't need to. Her ruby eyes were bright with worry, and Cloud forced himself to smile at her. It was small, and felt more like a grimace than anything else, but Tifa's expression relaxed regardless. It comforted him somewhat. It was the right thing to do, which was a refreshing contrast from the morning, where all he seemed to do was make her more and more upset.

But he did notice that she did not lower her hand, which Cloud was silently grateful for. He turned his attention back to her friends, but was unable to stop himself from leaning slightly into her touch. At the small measure of reassurance it brought. The warmth. It soothed the chaos in his head somewhat, his frayed nerves, his jagged edges.

" - anche doesn't need a SOLDIER!" Barret was saying, and his loud voice echoed through the bar. Cloud nearly winced at how the sound pierced his ears and bounced around his fragile mind. "Listen," Barret continued, holding his gun-arm up, "We didn't need them before, and sure as hell don't need'em now. We can't trust them," he added, now facing Cloud directly. Cloud scowled in response. "And we can fight damn well without them, too!"

Cloud turned away. "You're loud," he muttered under his breath.

Barret pierced him with a look, one that Cloud didn't notice. He was too busy looking at the door, and wondering when he and Tifa could leave, when he felt a barrel of a gun suddenly pushed into his chest.

It immediately pissed Cloud off, and he lifted his eyes, the mako within them burning bright and hot. Barret's expression shifted uneasily, but then his bravado returned and he growled, " _What_ the hell did you say, Stamp?"

_Stamp?_

"I _said_ _,_ " Cloud practically growled, "that you're _loud_ _._ " He placed a hand on the gun and pushed it aside, far more easily than he had been expecting, and Barret stumbled backward. At that exact moment, he decided he didn't care about his newfound strength, his unfamiliar body, or the swirling fog in his head.

 _Screw_ this guy.

"Also," Cloud flatly continued, "your gun is an ancient model. Inefficient, loud, cheap, and known for their large size." He met Barret's gaze, and his eyes glowed from adrenaline. "Compensating for something?"

Several things happened at once.

Jessie barked a short laugh, only to quickly slap a hand over her mouth. Tifa's jaw dropped as she stared at him, dumbfounded. Biggs had to duck his head to keep his smirk from showing, and Wedge took another bite of his sandwich, indifferent to it all.

And Barret…

"The _hell_ you say, asshole?" Barret took a step towards Cloud, his steps heavy and loud, and Cloud pushed himself off the wall in preparation for a fight. "Wanna say that again?"

Cloud said nothing, only shifted his weight so he stood on the balls of his feet. Moved so that his knees were slightly bent, his center of gravity was low, and spread his arms slightly to the side just in case he had to throw himself in either direction. He was at a distinct disadvantage, and he would probably get his ass kicked, but he couldn't run. Not with Tifa right there. But he couldn't drag her into this stupid fight either, so he had to get some distance between them, had to -

"Barret, wait."

And suddenly Biggs was standing between them, his hand pressed against Barret's chest, his other lifted towards Cloud in case Cloud lunged forward. Cloud dimly noted that Tifa was also holding onto his arm. Her grip was far stronger than he expected, and he didn't pull away, only stood rigid as Biggs continued, "Listen Barret, I know you hate Shinra and everything associated with them, but the fact remains that we _do_ need help. And picking fights with Tifa's friend here isn't going to do us any favors."

Cloud blinked, surprised. Was this Biggs guy _helping_ him?

 _No._ Not him, he realized after Biggs glanced at Tifa and she nodded in return. Biggs was doing this for _Tifa_. Not to mention that Tifa had Biggs' clothes at her apartment… Cloud's lips curved into a frown and, thoroughly unsettled, decided he didn't want to pursue that thought any further. Maybe he _didn't_ want to ask Tifa about it later.

But he shoved those thoughts aside. He had other things to focus on right now, anyway. Like not getting shot.

"Cloud," Biggs continued, "have you been inside a mako reactor before?"

Cloud wasn't sure what that had to do with anything, but… "Yeah."

"Thought so." Biggs turned back to Barret, who had gone red in the face. "We _need_ someone who knows their way around a reactor, knows how their security works, maybe even knows some shortcuts. And since Cloud here _was_ in Shinra, he'll also know -"

" _Hell_ nah," Barret interrupted. "I ain't working with this punk-ass SOLDIER-boy."

"Wait, Barret. Maybe this is actually a good idea," Wedge piped up. He had finished his sandwich and leaned back in his chair, smiling and looking altogether pleased with himself. "It would be nice to have a professional on the team. Would make the job easier," he added at Barret's incredulous look. "Maybe less messy than before."

"And if it makes our job easier," Jessie added, "then it'll be good for the Planet, too."

 _That_ shut Barret up. Anything he had been about to say died in his throat, and after a few heavy, tense moments, he suddenly turned to Tifa. Tifa jumped a little and jerked her hand away from Cloud's arm, as if embarrassed. Cloud tried not to feel too disappointed.

"Tifa," Barret said, his tone suddenly serious. "You trust Mr. SOLDIER-boy here?"

"With my life," was her immediate reply.

Cloud went deathly still beside her.

"SOLDIER-boy," Barret continued, now turning to the shell-shocked Cloud. "You know how'ta fight?"

It took Cloud a moment to process the question, but when it did… "Of course," he replied, and almost told Barret just how _stupid_ of a question that was, but Tifa's warning look made him reconsider. Suddenly recalling how he was currently free-loading off of Tifa, he said instead, "I don't know what sort of gig you're pulling, and I don't care. Whatever it is," he added as he met Barret's glare with an icy stare of his own, "I expect to be paid."

Barret's eyes widened a fraction; Jessie chuckled behind him. "This is for the Planet!" Barret shouted. "You really gonna be asking for money when the _world_ is on th' line?"

Cloud almost rolled his eyes. _Almost._ "I'm doing this for Tifa. Not for the Planet," he added, "and not for you. If you want me on your team, you're going to have to pay me."

Barret's jaw worked, and he looked as if he was going to start yelling again, but then he suddenly gave up. "Well. All righty then, you'll get your pay. But let me make one thing clear." Cloud lifted his head at Barret's strange, uncomfortably calm tone. "The fact of th' matter is, you're gonna accept whatever the hell I decide to pay you. But don't you worry your pretty chocobo head," he added before Cloud could say any more. "I'm a lot of things, but _fair_ is one of them." He paused, sizing Cloud up. "We leave tomorrow night."

Cloud eyes widened a fraction, the only indication of his surprise. His horror. _Tomorrow night?_ That was too soon. Far too soon, he wasn't ready yet, he -

" _Barret_ ," Tifa said in warning. And something in her voice snapped Cloud out of his shock, his mounting panic, and he remembered: He had made a promise to her. A _promise._

And he intended to keep it.

Barret continued to watch Cloud, his dark eyes bright, his lips curled back into something like a sneer. "Well? You gonna join?" he demanded. "Or is little Stamp here afraid of bitin' the hand that feeds?"

"I'm not afraid," Cloud stated. He wasn't sure if it was a lie yet or not. "And I'll be here."

"Good." Barret seemed satisfied by the answer. "We'll meet at the station, when the first streetlights come on. Understand, SOLDIER-boy?"

 _"_ _Barret,"_ Tifa hissed, and was about to say more when Cloud held up a hand, stopping her.

" _Ex-_ SOLDIER boy," Cloud stated. The mako in his eyes burned hot, their faint glow visible despite the bar lights, but their light dimmed when he felt Tifa grab his hand and pull him out the bar.

And the door slammed shut behind them.

* * *

"I'm so sorry," Tifa said, again. Her earlier fury was gone, and she walked dejectedly beside Cloud as they walked back to her apartment, her head tilted down and gaze pinned at her shoes, at the dust pillowing her every step. "I'm just… I can't _believe_ them sometimes."

"You have good friends," Cloud deadpanned.

Now that they had left the bar, Cloud could feel the adrenaline fading and exhaustion taking his place, the sort of exhaustion that seeped into his bones and blurred his muddled thoughts even further. Concentrating on Tifa long enough to understand what she was saying was a struggle, but he forced himself to do it. To at least _try_ _._

Tifa glanced at him, wide-eyed. "You really think… Oh." Her face fell and she turned back to the road, scowling. "You're being sarcastic."

"No, really." Cloud's indifferent gaze sifted across the nearby shops, seeing them, but not really taking them in. "They seem nice."

"Barret wasn't going to shoot you, you know," Tifa said. "He's actually a really nice guy, once you get to know him. A big softie that cares a little too much."

"Really."

"Look," Tifa said, turning to him. "I'm sorry, I truly am. I really… I really thought that it was just going to be an introduction. If I would have known they would try to recruit you, I wouldn't have brought you. _Especially_ since you're still recovering from yesterday."

Cloud met her gaze, her lips twitching into a frown. His hazy mind flicked back to their morning conversation, to what Tifa had told him, and the dots began to connect. "Is that what you meant this morning?" he asked after a lengthy pause. They had stopped in the middle of the road, forcing everyone else to walk around them. But he didn't notice, nor did he particularly care, as he continued, "Is that what you meant when you said ' _a bad influence'_?"

Tifa opened her mouth to reply… but then she sighed and, biting her lip, nodded.

Cloud was too tired to feel anything but a twinge of worry, and not for himself. "Tifa..."

"I know, I know," she said before he had the chance to continue. She began walking again, and after a pause, he followed. "They… When I first joined Avalanche, it was because they hated Shinra and wanted to make a difference. A positive one. And I… I wanted that, too."

"You hate Shinra?"

"You don't?" Tifa shot him an incredulous look. "They burned down our home. They took _everything_ from us."

 _Not everything,_ Cloud thought. He nearly said it out loud, but the words got caught in his throat so he murmured instead, "I'm not with Shinra anymore."

At that, Tifa deflated slightly. "I know. I know, it's just… I'm worried. If you don't feel up to tomorrow, you don't have to go. I'll talk to Barret, make him understand."

"I'm fine," he said, even as the world blurred for a moment. Were they near her apartment yet? They must be close – it felt like they had been walking forever. "What is the job, anyway?" he managed to ask.

Tifa bit her lip. "Um..."

"Tifa?"

"It's, well... Um..." She winced. "It's to blow up the Sector One reactor."

Cloud's eyes widened and he froze, staring at her, and she wouldn't meet his eyes. "To blow up..." he repeated, but his voice trailed off as he shook his head, his lips twitching into a smile. He wasn't even a surprised at this point. That gun-armed Barret guy seemed crazy enough to do that.

"I'm sorry," Tifa said again.

"Don't be. I already accepted the job."

"Even so, I am." She glanced at him and, even though she looked as if she was about to cry, managed a small smile. "Anyway, that's enough of that for now. I promised that I'd take you shopping yesterday."

Cloud blinked past the fog in his mind. "You did?" He had no memory of that.

"Yes. We're going to buy you some new clothes. And you agreed, by the way," she added, teasing now.

Cloud's brow furrowed. "I did?" He _definitely_ had no memory of that.

"Yes!" Tifa laughed at his expression. "I asked, and you nodded. But we can go later, after we rest a bit."

"Hm."

"Besides, you'll need a weapon," Tifa added as they continued down the road. Various shops lined their path. All of them looked as if they had been scrapped together, and had mismatching roofs and ill-fitting doors. "You know… for Barret's job."

And just like that, her worried expression was back. Her concern, and she glanced at him, biting her lip.

"We can do that last," Cloud decided. "But… later." He glanced around the street, unsure if it was familiar or not. "Is your apartment…"

"Right here, actually." Tifa paused in front of a rickety staircase, and Cloud nearly sagged with relief. It wasn't that he was concerned that he wouldn't have been able to make it back. His body, as unfamiliar and foreign as it was, seemed a little sturdier than before. But the haze in his mind had returned, the sort he vaguely recognized from the day before. It was rapidly becoming difficult to string thoughts together. To connect ideas. Memories.

As they ascended the staircase, Tifa walked a bit closer to him, her arm ready to wrap around his waist and offer support if needed. He didn't have the heart to tell her that he didn't need any help, but he also didn't mind her closeness. "Um… Tifa..."

"Mm?" She glanced at him, her expression warm. Her apartment key jangled in her hand. "What is it?"

Cloud couldn't look at her in the eyes. He tried but couldn't do it, so instead he looked at the front door and murmured, "Back at the bar..."

"Mm-hm?"

"Did you… Did you mean it?" He forced himself to turn to her, to meet her gaze. "When you said that… you trust me." _With your life,_ he tried to add, but he couldn't force the words past his throat, his lips. Already the memory was becoming blurry, but he tried to hold onto it a little longer. Just a little while longer.

Tifa understood what he was trying to say, and her expression softened. "Of course I did." She unlocked her front door and light spilled into the apartment. "We made a promise, hadn't we?"

It was the second time that day that they had referred to that small promise, and Cloud couldn't stop the blush that kissed his cheeks. No matter how hazy his thoughts were becoming, that particular memory shone brightly in the fog. It was like a lighthouse, guiding his way home, and he managed a small smile.

"Yeah."


	10. Reflections and Recollections

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Lab Flashback

The artificial sun hung high about the Sector Seven slums and cast pale light against the patchwork town. It was not a warm light, per say. This light was cold and thin, and it reminded Tifa of iridescent lightbulbs hanging from office ceilings instead of natural, golden sunlight. She leaned out the window for a moment, her eyes pinned onto the bright disc hanging over the slums, before sighing and pulling the curtains closed.

When she had been a child, she had taken the sun for granted. Had taken the _sky_ for granted.

Not so much anymore.

Her hands lingered on the curtain's thin fabric as she lost herself in memories, memories of a tiny town far away from here, before sighing and glancing over her shoulder.

Cloud sat right where she had left him; in his corner, curled up against the wall, his knees tucked into his chest and arms crossed over his knees. He had dozed off immediately after they had arrived back from Seventh Heaven, which had surprised Tifa – she had known he had been tired, but had _no_ idea that he had been so exhausted. It worried her. Though, _everything_ about Cloud’s situation worried her _._ She had even checked once or twice to make sure he was still breathing, as his breathes were so faint they didn’t even stir his chest.

Tifa crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself as she recalled finding Cloud at the train station yesterday afternoon. Then again this morning: Cloud staring at her from the bathroom floor, pale and stricken and stunned, only to tell her that he had _tripped._ And then later, at the bar – the same look of terror had crossed his face, if only for a moment, before it was gone and he _smiled_ at her. Reassured her that he was okay, that he was all right.

She knew that it was only an act, and that he was putting on a brave face so that she wouldn’t worry. But it only made her worry more _._

The bed groaned as it accepted her weight. She splayed her hands flat against the covers and her delicate fingers, her knuckles scarred and thick from training, played with the comforter’s old fabric.

She wished… Well, she wished for a lot of things, but right now she wished that Cloud could be more honest with her. To tell her what was going on in his head.

 _Not that I’m one to talk,_ she thought with a small, bitter smile. She clenched her hands against the comforter. _Not after I dragged him into Avalanche._

Memories of the bar flickered through her mind. She had been afraid of Cloud meeting everyone, as he was so brittle right now, so fragile. Like the smallest nudge could shatter him, and yet she quickly learned that her fears were unfounded. In fact, she felt a little jolt of pride at how Cloud had handled himself in front of the rest of the team. He had seemed more confident. More in his element, and the way he had effortlessly pushed Barret’s gun aside, as if it weighed _nothing…_

It was enough to make her think that maybe, just maybe, Cloud would be okay after all.

 _That said,_ she thought, her eyebrows knitting in frustration, _I’m going to have to talk to Barret later._ He had promised her that he would be on his best behavior, _p_ _romised_ that all he wanted to meet Tifa's friend, the ex-SOLDIER, and see if he could be trusted on the team _._ As for recruiting him… well, Tifa had known that it would always be a possibility. Truth be told, they had needed someone like Cloud for a while: a professional, someone who understood Shinra, and someone who could fight. She just hadn’t expected them to recruit Cloud so soon.

And then, worst of all, Cloud accepted the job. And not because he believed in Avalanche or their mission, or because he liked the group so much. He said so himself – he would do the job for _her._ Because of their promise.

Guilt twisted within her, and Tifa sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. _I’ll just… have to trust Cloud_. Unbidden, her eyes began to burn with unshed tears, but she refused to let them fall. Crying was a waste of time, and right now it wouldn’t solve anything. _I’ll have to trust that he knows what he’s doing,_ she knew. Besides, he was in SOLDIER, wasn’t he? He must have been in far more dangerous situations than a stealth mission.

Or at least, she certainly hoped so.

She sighed again before leaning forward to rest her chin on her hands. In front of her, Cloud continued to sleep. His blond eyelashes, nearly silver in the dark, fluttered as he dreamed and once again she was struck by how young he looked while sleeping. How he curled himself into the tightest of balls against the wall, as if preparing to wake up and run.

She reached forward and brushed back his bangs from his eyes, almost without realizing she was doing so. _Oh Cloud,_ she thought, _I’m so sorry._

She wasn't sure how long she sat there, drowning in her thoughts, but after a moment she sniffed and wiped her eyes. She couldn’t just sit in the dark feeling sorry for herself _all_ day. There were things to do, places to be, and Cloud needed some new clothes. She could tell that he was less than enthusiastic about going clothes shopping with her earlier, so maybe she could spare him the trip and do it herself. It might even be fun. And maybe she could pick up some lunch on the way back, something he might have never tried before.

 _Maybe chicken paella?_ she thought as she got to her feet. _Or maybe something a little_ _simpler_ _-_ she pulled the comforter off of the bed – _like an egg rice bowl?_ She carefully draped the comforter over Cloud’s sleeping form, and though he initially made a small noise of protest – which made Tifa go very, very still, as she was afraid she had woken him up – he immediately quieted, and Tifa slowly exhaled her relief. _And I wonder if Cloud has ever had boba before?_ she continued as she watched him for a moment, just to make sure that he was well and truly asleep, that he was still breathing.

 _Well, I guess we’ll find out,_ she decided, and satisfied that Cloud would be okay on his own, at least until she returned, she grabbed her keys and made her way to the front door. But then she paused, and turned around to murmur, “I’ll be right back.” With that she opened the door, and light spilled into the apartment. The thin light momentarily highlighted Cloud's sleeping form, the muted green tint to his blond hair, before she slowly shut the door behind her. There was a heavy thud as it was locked, and then her footsteps echoed down the rickety staircase.

And still Cloud didn't stir.

* * *

The Turk armory was far simpler a place than Zack had imaged. There were no ancient relics hanging on the walls, no legendary items protected in glass containers, no suits of armor weighing down featureless mannequins. Instead, the Turk armory was simple. Plain. The walls were made of dark steel, and a collection of weapons such as guns, swords, shuriken, and staffs were hung in neat rows upon it. In brief, the Turk armory was the perfect blend of efficiency and emotional detachment.

 _Just like the SOLDIER armory back in HQ,_ Zack thought dryly. He had yet to decide if that was a good thing, though. He paced back and forth in the armory, his arms crossed over his chest and the beginnings of a scowl on his lips. _They’re late,_ he decided. Tseng, true to his word, had picked up Zack two hours after their morning meeting and had dropped him off at the Turk armory. Tseng had also dropped off a new uniform, as Zack’s old SOLDIER attire was covered in dirt, mud, mako residue, blood, and who knew what else, and told him to wear it on the mission. That it was the standard uniform of Shinra contractors, but at first, Zack had been perturbed. His regular clothes were fine, thank you very much. Old, yes. Gross? Probably, yeah, but at least _someone_ had washed most of the stains off. He didn’t need a new uniform to wear, even if it did look like a SOLDIER uniform.

But then he put the new uniform on, and damn, did it make a difference. The pants were so crisp that they actually _crinkled_ when he walked. Not to mention that there weren’t any sloppily-patched holes, no weird stains, and the fabric was actually _black_. His old uniform had been the same shade at one point, until life had faded it several shades lighter. Only now did he realize just how disgusting his old clothes were. He was lucky Cissnei had even let him and Cloud into her helicopter, considering he had also been covered in blood and sweat at the time.

 _Cloud…_ Zack tilted his head up, and if he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine that he was looking towards the sky instead of a cold, impersonal, metal ceiling. _P_ _lease be okay._

After he and Cloud had escaped the lab, they had spent ten months on the run _._ Ten months of constant traveling, of constantly looking over their shoulder for any sign of Shinra or the infantry, of constantly sleeping with one eye open just in case the army found them and dragged them back to that hell. And the first month had been the hardest – the infantry had always seemed to be right beside them, Zack had still been weak and recovering from his own treatments, and Cloud…

Zack grimaced. Cloud had been experiencing mako poisoning in a bad way. It was worse than anything Zack had been told, and at one point, he had thought that Cloud was actually going to die. Just stop breathing and die, right there in front of him.

But Cloud was stubborn. More stubborn that Zack had ever given him credit for, and had continued to hang on, one day at a time, until he slowly got a little better. Until his fever lessened. Until the he stopped vomiting mako. Until the shaking stopped and he was able to support his own weight, just a tiny bit, when Zack would help him to their camp for the night.

And now Cloud was gone.

He was gone, and Zack didn’t know where he was.

_Shit._

Zack clenched his jaw against the sudden swell of emotion, against the memories and feelings he had been doing his damnest to keep down. _Cloud is okay,_ he told himself. _He’s visiting a friend._ Aerith had told him so, and he needed to believe that. He _had_ to believe that, because if the alternative was true and Cloud was actually hurt and scared somewhere, all by himself…

Zack’s throat tightened and he shook his head. _No, don’t think like that,_ he ordered. He _had_ to believe that Cloud was okay, and that he would _stay_ okay until Zack could get there. Until they could be together, and he could get Cloud proper treatment for his mako poisoning.

 _And maybe I’ll find him today,_ Zack reminded himself. Reno and Rude would get here any minute, and as soon as they did…

Resolve hardened within him, and he stopped pacing to double check his uniform. To make sure his gloves were tight, that his new boots would not blister his feet, and that everything fit comfortably. He didn’t want any distractions on today’s mission.

Satisfied that his equipment fit him appropriately, he dragged his gaze to the Buster Sword, now hanging on the wall. Someone had taken the time to polish it, and now he could see his reflection staring back at him from within its cold steel. And he looked... _different_. There was a new hardness to his eyes that he hadn’t been there before, a hard set to his jaw, and his lips seemed thinner – a little sharper, not as prone to smiling. There was an edge to him that he did not recognize.

And yet there was something distinctly fragile about his expression as well. Zack couldn’t define it, exactly He couldn’t decide if it was because of the hollow glow to his eyes, or the bruises beneath his eyes, or how his cheeks were thinner, his skin more pale, but…

 _I look like a mess,_ he thought, and it made him smile – a sharp, brittle smile. No _wonder_ Aerith had seemed so worried about him the day before. If he had seen himself, he would have been worried, too.

And there was so much to worry about.

Sighing, Zack lightly tapped his forehead against the flat of his blade. He closed his eyes against the chill and exhaled, slow and even. Forced himself to try to relax, because right now he had to stay focused. He had to focus on what he could do right now – which was the mission in front of him – and nothing else. After all, if he was going to find Cloud, he would need to be at his best.

And like whenever he thought about being his best self, his mind slipped back into memories of his late mentor.

 _Embrace your dreams,_ Angeal had once told him, _and never forget your_ _honor as SOLDIER._

Zack’s smile lost a bit of its sharpness. When Angeal had first told him that, his dream had been a simple one. Maybe unattainable, if Lazard had anything to say about it... but simple. He had wanted to be a hero, someone that the entire world could look up to, someone the entire world would respect. Now that dream had been replaced by other things. _Humbler_ things, and he lifted his hands to grip the blade’s hilt; not to pick it up, but just to feel its familiar weight, and remind himself of who he was and what he wanted to accomplish.

He wanted to find Cloud and bring him home, safe and well.

He wanted to help Aerith fill Midgar with flowers, like she had dreamed of doing four years ago.

He wanted to visit Gongaga and tell his parents that he was alive, and introduce Aerith and Cloud to them. Maybe then eat a home-cooked meal for once.

He also wanted to thank Cissnei for saving him and Cloud on the Midgar wasted, and for giving them a second chance. Thank Tseng too, for that same reason.

 _And then, when I finish all of that…_ Zack turned away from the blade and pinned his gaze on the clock, and his sea-green eyes followed its hands as they ticked along its face. _I guess I’ll find a new dream._

Without warning, the armory door swung open. Zack wasn’t surprised, as his mako-enhanced hearing had already picked up on the footsteps, and he turned to see Reno stride into the armory like he owned the place. Rude was a few steps behind, adjusting his collar and straightening his sunglasses.

 _Who wears sunglasses indoors, anyway?_ Zack thought. Crossing his arms over his chest, he continued, "Heya. Glad you two finally decided to show up."

Reno frowned at him, unsure if Zack was being sarcastic or not. “Yeah, well, sorry to keep you waiting.” He bounced his electro-mag rod against his shoulder, almost impatiently. "We got held up."

Rude grunted in affirmation. “We were in a last-minute meeting with Tseng.”

“Oh, really?” Zack arched an eyebrow. “And I wasn’t invited?”

“Turks only,” Reno stated. “ _Contractors_ aren’t exactly invited to Turk missions, let alone confidential meetings. Just be happy you’re here, Fair.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“And another thing." Reno tilted his chin towards the Buster Sword, and added, “Tseng is asking you to reconsider bringing that along. I get that you don’t like being parted from your favorite toy -” Zack narrowed his eyes, “- but that sword is kinda obvious.” Reno shrugged. “It’s gonna make our job harder, you know.”

Zack glanced at Buster Sword. At his reflection, trapped within its metal surface. “Yeah, well…” Turning back to Reno, he continued, “I’m not bringing it after all.”

Rude’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “What changed your mind?”

“No particular reason.” It wasn’t like Zack _didn’t_ want to bring the sword. In fact, he desperately wanted to – leaving the Buster Sword behind on a mission felt a bit like leaving behind his arm, or his leg. But he had thought about what Tseng had said, about how the Buster Sword was so distinctive, and realized that if it impeded his mission to find Cloud… then it had to get left behind.

He smiled, small and sad, and pressed his hand against the flat of the blade – Cloud _was_ a little more important than his sword, after all.

“Yuck, man,” Reno said behind him. “Stop reminiscing like an old lady and let’s go.”

Zack’s brow furrowed, and he dropped his hand. “I’m not reminiscing.”

“Suuure,” Reno drawled. “You’re just smiling at your sword, which is a totally not-weird thing to do.”

“Ignore Reno,” Rude said. Shooting Zack a sympathetic glance – or what Zack interpreted as a sympathetic glance, as it was hard to tell behind Rude's sunglasses – Rude continued, “He just feels bad we didn’t find you and Strife before the infantry arrived.”

Reno shot Rude a horrified look. _“Rude!”_

“You guys were there too?” Zack said, blinking in surprise.

Rude nodded, while Reno sputtered behind him.

“Yeah, well, we were. Or we tried to be,” Reno stated, and impatiently ran a hand through his hair. “Finding you and Stride in the wastes had been damn near impossible. Like finding a needle in a haystack.”

“But Cissnei found us _,”_ Zack said, referring to both him and Cloud.

“Yeah, well...” Reno began bouncing his electro-mag rod on his shoulder again. “Let’s just say that Cissnei was determined, like more than usual. But like, why are even talking about this, anyway?” He frowned at his partner, then at Zack. The bouncing quickened. “Can we just go?”

Zack couldn’t help but agree. He was more than ready to begin their mission, and had already begun heading to the elevator. “So where are we going?”

“We’ll be driving to upper Sector Four,” Rude replied. He hit the _up_ button on the elevator, and continued, “The Turks have a small outpost there.”

“Outpost?”

The elevator doors slid open, and the three of them stepped inside. “Yeah, for intelligence operations and shit,” Reno explained. “All footage from Midgar’s security cameras is stored there for up to a month, and going through them is a real pain in the ass.”

“You don’t store that in Shinra HQ?” Zack asked.

“Nah.” Reno hit the top floor, and continued, “It was Tseng’s idea, and Rufus Shinra – the Shinra VP, if you don’t know who that is -”

“I know who Rufus is,” Zack replied, perturbed. “It’s only been away four years, you know. Hell, we used to be coworkers.”

“A lot has changed since then,” Rude gently pointed out.

“And Rufus agreed,” Reno finished, dragging the conversation back to the original topic.

Rude got the hint, and added, “Rufus wants to keep the Turks separate from Shinra.”

Now _that_ was news to Zack, and he shot Rude a surprised look. “Why?”

But instead of getting an answer, Rude and Reno only shared a brief glance. “You’ll find out,” Reno finally replied. “Maybe.”

Zack scowled - he didn't like being left out of secrets. “Oh, is this more _Turk-only_ business or something?”

“Sure, think of it that way, _contracto_ _r,”_ Reno dryly replied. Zack’s scowl deepened. “Just be happy you don’t have to attend the meetings.”

“Ah, I remember those. But think of it this way: If _you_ disappeared for four years, maybe you can skip the meetings, too.” Zack managed a grin, thin and sharp. “Worked for me.”

Rude pushed his sunglasses a bit higher up his nose, and Reno deadpanned, “Yeah, no thanks,” just as the elevator chimed.

The doors slid open and the three of them stepped out of the elevator, and Zack squinted his eyes against the breeze and sudden sunlight. It took his eyes only a moment to adjust, but what he say made his eyes widen.

He hadn’t seen Midgar in four, almost five years, but it was drastically different than his memories. He took a step closer to the edge, his teal eyes wide and bright. Gone were the construction rigs, the support beams, the jagged metal that had made Midgar look permanently undeveloped and unfinished. Gone were the propaganda posters advertising a finished Midgar and SOLDIER enhancements, and in their place was posters about movies, and plays, and concerts. An entire rail system snaked through the different sectors, and there were glass elevators rising between the lower and upper plates. If Zack tilted his gaze upward, he would have noticed the thin green film covering the sky's natural blue, and would have known that it was due to mako pollution.

But Zack didn't look up. All he could do was stare at the Midgar skyline, at its progress, at the promise that it would continue to thrive. And it occurred to him, as he stood on the edge of the car garage with the wind blowing back his hair, that the world had continued to move these past four years without him. That the world was entirely indifferent to whether or not he lived or died, and he had been left behind in the meantime. Him _and_ Cloud.

Reno followed his stare, this huffed a laugh. "Oh yeah, forget you haven't seen this in a while. It’s a lot, huh?” Then he paused, his expression uncharacteristically serious for someone so prone to smiling. “What do you think, seeing Midgar now?” His green eyes were bright, and he seemed genuinely curious.

"It's… I just… I don't know," Zack admitted. From his vantage point, he could see the outline of a plaza below him. There were _people_ walking though it, actual people, and he could remember a time when he was hunting monsters down there back as a SOLDIER: 2nd Class. The monsters were long gone now, and it was hard to imagine them there in the first place. Everything looked so… so _clean,_ so _civilized,_ and suddenly he felt out of place. "All this happened in four years?"

"Yeah, it did. Now stop gawkin’,” Reno continued. “We have a mission to do. And you were so damn impatient earlier, too,” he added under his breath.

 _Mission. Right._ After a moment, Zack tore his gaze away from the scenery below and made his way to the van, where Rude was already warming up the car. Rude’s dark gaze followed Zack as the ex-SOLDIER climbed in the back seat, his expression unreadable.

Zack met his gaze and frowned. “What? Something on my face?”

“No.” Rude shook his head and turned back out the front windshield, where a road lifted off of the car garage and wrapped around the Turk building. “Is everyone ready?”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Reno impatiently replied. He leaned back in his seat and folded his hands behind his fiery red hair. “Can we just go already?”

Rude made an affirmative noise, and the engine hummed as they began to drive.

"So, the reactors," Zack began as they left the car garage. He leaned forward in his seat, his elbows balanced on his knees. "Is that _really_ what Avalanche is planning on blowing up? Like, actually?"

"You bet your spiky hair it is," Reno replied. His head was tilted towards the window, and the passing scenery was reflected in the green of his eyes. "Crazy assholes think blowing up a reactor will solve all their problems… If only it were that easy,” he added with a huff.

"Huh." Zack glanced back out the window, at the scenery that seemed both strikingly familiar and utterly foreign at the same time. He glanced upwards, towards the reactors. They had gotten bigger since the last time he had seen them. They seemed… more industrial in a way, like the pipes had been reinforced and expanded to accommodate more energy, and seemed entirely indestructible. Thick green sprayed into the atmosphere above, which explained the constant taste of metal in his mouth.

 _There's no way Avalanche can blow one up,_ Zack decided, turning away. _It'll be a suicide mission._

"So," Zack said, his voice loud in the car’s quiet. "When we get to your Turk outpost in Sector Four, then what? Dig through security footage?”

“Well, you are,” Reno said. He was still looking at the world outside the window, and occasionally his eyes flicked towards the sky. Or rather, the thin, green-tinted haze that covered it. “Have fun with that.”

“Wait.” Zack’s gaze flicked between him and Rude. “You guys aren’t joining?”

Reno sighed. “Nah. Too boring.”

“What?” Confusion gave way to incredulous frustration, and Zack leaned forward in his seat. His chest strained against the seat belt as he continued, “I joined you guys – _agreed_ to help you guys – in order to find Cloud. And I don’t see how -”

“Oh, don’t get your panties in a bunch, Fair,” Reno said, cutting him off. “You know, you’ve gotten way more im -”

“We’re going to the outpost for you,” Rude interrupted. He shot Reno a dry look, one that Reno rolled his eyes at before sinking deeper into his seat. Satisfied, Rude continued, “The outpost contains all the security footage from Midgar.”

Zack crossed his arms across his chest. “So?”

“C’mon Fair, put the pieces together.” Reno leaned his head against the window, and looked completely unimpressed by the conversation. “Why the hell would Tseng want to drag your prickly ass to the information center of Midgar, with Turk support?”

Zack’s brows furrowed. “Why would he...” Suddenly, all at once, it clicked. If Zack had all of the footage from Midgar, he would be able to sift through it all to find Cloud’s location. Maybe not _today’s_ footage – he wouldn’t let his hopes run that high – but maybe to yesterday, when he had left the hospital. Maybe a security camera captured the direction he ran, where he went…

Reno smirked at Zack’s stricken expression. “Bingo.”

“Okay, fine.” Zack rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks warm. “Whatever. So I’ll look through the camera feed. But,” he added as a new thought occurred to him, “what will you guys be doing in the meantime?”

“The original mission,” Rude stated. He eased their van onto the highway, and a _Welcome to Sector Four!_ passed beside them in green blur. “Finding members of Avalanche.”

“You really think they’ll be at Sector Four?” Zack asked.

At that, Reno sighed. “Who fucking knows. God, I’m already exhausted,” he added, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Rude, we there yet?”

“Five more minutes.”

“Ugh. Can this thing go _any_ faster?” Reno continued. “We could have been there by now in a ‘copter.”

“Tseng requested subtly,” came Rude’s easy reply.

“Speaking of Tseng,” Zack added from the backseat, “he seems to have gotten softer.”

At that, Reno’s gaze flicked to the backseat mirror. Pinning Zack with a dry look, he deadpanned. “Yeah. Maybe to _you._ Not exactly to the rest of us.”

Zack only grinned in response.

* * *

_Cloud coughed out a mixture of mako and bile as he was thrown back into his cell. The curved glass of the holding chamber briefly steamed as the door resealed, but then the vapor cleared and he was left to stare weakly through the glass. At the people walking beyond its icy confines, their gloves hands holding notepads, their white coats draped on their bodies. Cloud hated those lab coats, but at the moment, he would have given almost anything for one._

_He was so cold._

_He curled in on himself as he wetly coughed. Mako splattered the ground just past his lips, and his faint breathes cast ripples against its neon, emerald-green surface. Beyond that, he could see his hands, his fingertips blue and lightly curled. He gasped. Air filled his burning lungs, momentarily soothing the fire within them, but then he was coughing all over again._

_God, it hurt, but eventually it subsided and_ _all he could do was to lie there. Moving hurt his burned, blistered skin too much. Hell, even breathing hurt, and he tried to keep his breaths as faint as light as possible, at least to stop himself from further irritating his lungs and coughing more._

_Suddenly he was cast in someone’s shadow. He turned his head into the floor, away from the shadow, and the icy ground chilled his feverish cheeks. His breaths rattled in his chest – did they really want to keep going? Was this only a moments reprieve, and they were going to pull him back in the mako pod? Or…_

_His imagination spiraled as the man outside began to speak, but his voice was warped and indistinct, and eventually – finally – went away. Cloud shakily exhaled in relief, only for his body to seize and then he was coughing, far harder than before. First all he could cough up was more mako, but then he was coughing up red, too. Scarlet splattered the floor and a throb hissed through his body. Whimpering against the sharp pain, he curled further in on himself._

I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine, _he told himself, over and over and over again. The coughing would pass. The hurt would pass. He just needed to rest for a moment, just needed…_

_His eyes opened, and the fresh mako within them burned a startling shade of green._

_He needed Zack._

_He needed Zack_ _desperately_ _, needed Zack to tell him that he was okay,_ _that the sickness would pass and they would be all right. That desperation_ _forced him t_ _o lift his head. To stare at the_ other _holding cell, and his eyes pricked_ _when he saw that it was empty._

_He dropped his head, and it connected dully with the unyielding ground. Zack wasn’t in his cell, which meant that Cloud had been dragged out of the mako pod early – probably because he failed some test of theirs – and that Zack was still floating in there somewhere._

_Which meant Cloud was in the holding container bay, alone._

_His chest tightened. And not from his mako treatment._

_“Za…_ _aa_ _...”_

 _H_ i _s lips, numb from cold, couldn’t form Zack’s name in his mouth,_ _and his voice was a broken rasp, little more than a shiver against his glass prison. Cloud remained limp on the ground as s_ _omething wet and hot slipped from his eyes and ran down his cheeks._

 _“_ _aa...”_

_Alone. He was alone in this glass jar, until Zack came back, but that could be hours from now. Days. Sometimes Hojo kept Zack away for weeks at a time, and vice versa... or at least, that's what Cloud thought during his brief moments of consciousness. Sometimes, he wasn't sure if Zack would ever come back. Maybe Zack was dead right now, and the thought choked him. Choked him and dark thoughts flitted back and forth through his mind like songbirds, each singing their own unique and equally dark song. His eyes fluttered closed against them._

_He missed the sky..._

* * *

Cloud gasped as he opened his eyes. For a moment he lay in his corner, afraid to move, before his limbs lost some of their rigidity and breath returned to his lungs. The whispers of his dream faded back into the dark recesses of his mind, but some of the emotion lingered. Loneliness. Fear. Sorrow. Something slipped down his cheeks, wet and warm, and he brushed his fingers against their tracks.

_Tears?_

His lips twitched into a frown, and he gingerly wiped his face with his wrist. Sure enough, his cheeks were damp, and his eyes felt like they were made of sandpaper. Even his throat felt sore, like he had been screaming for a long time. Yet he knew that he didn’t make a sound.

He never made a sound when he slept.

But that just brought up a new series of questions, and he squinted at his damp fingertips in utter confusion.

_I was asleep?_

He lifted his head, blinking at the apartment. He certainly didn’t _remember_ falling asleep. The last thing he could recall was Tifa and him entering her apartment after meeting her… her _friends,_ he thought, the word sour on his tongue.

_And then.._

He lifted his head to gaze about the room, more dazed than anything. _Then what happened?_ He was vaguely aware that he had sat down at some point, and had been listening to Tifa telling him about the various shops in the slums, and then… nothing. His memories abruptly cut off, leaving him frowning. _Had I actually fallen asleep?_

He must have. Sighing, he moved to sit up, only to pause at the blanket placed over him. _Tifa’s comforter,_ he recognized after a moment. Sure enough, her comforter was missing from her bed, and it took him a moment to realize that she must have draped it over him when he had fallen asleep.

Heat kissed his cheeks, and he carefully laid the comforter back over her bed. _I need to find my own place,_ he knew, pushing his hair out of his eyes. _I can’t keep… relying on her like this._

That thought firmly in his mind, he glanced at the rest of the room. As he had expected, Tifa had left sometime while he had been asleep. His gaze darted towards the door; for some reason, the thought of her gone left him feeling uneasy. Exposed, in a strange way, and he wished that she would come back. He didn’t like being here by himself.

As if she had been summoned, the door suddenly clicked unlocked and the door creaked open. Tifa opened the door cautiously, as if afraid of waking him, but her face lit up when she noticed Cloud standing and she opened the door entirely. Light spilled into the room.

"Good morning, sleepy head," she smiled as she stepped inside, then shut the door behind her. "How are you feeling?"

“Fine.” His gaze dropped to the bag in his arms. It looked heavy, and without a thought, he moved forward to help her carry it.

“Don’t worry!” she said in response to his silent question to help. "I got this." And she did; she carried the bag to the bed and spilled out its contents – a sleeveless sweater, baggy pants, boots, a shoulder guard, and a magnetized sword holster – onto the bed. 

Cloud’s eyes widened a fraction, and he glanced at her in question.

“It’s for you,” Tifa explained. She grinned at his surprised expression, her own expression bright and warm, and Cloud felt himself relax a bit. “I know you weren’t super excited about going shopping earlier, so I went ahead and picked some things up for you.” Holding the shirt up, she thoughtfully added, “Hopefully they fit better than Biggs’ clothes.”

Cloud’s expression soured at the mention of Biggs, and he almost asked Tifa about him right then and there… but something kept his lips pressed firmly shut. Truth be told, he didn’t _want_ to know.

“Well?” Tifa’s voice pulled Cloud out of his thoughts. She was holding the shirt up for him to inspect, and her eyes searched his face for any sort of reaction. “What do you think?”

Cloud reached forward so that his fingertips brushed against the shirt’s material. Despite clearly being pre-owned, the black, knitted fabric was soft and thick. It felt durable. Solid, even. “It looks like a SOLDIER uniform,” he finally said.

“That’s because it is.” Tifa placed the shirt back on the bed and held up the pants, twisting it this way and that. “Or at least, it’s an older model. I got a pretty good deal on it, too,” she added, grinning. “Honestly, I’m surprised that it was even here at the slums. I wonder how it got here," she mused aloud.

Cloud’s gaze flicked across the pants; at its leather belt, the double belt loops, the dark, tightly woven fabric that was more armor than cloth. _It must have been expensive,_ he thought, frowning. Not to mention that he already owed her for letting him stay at her apartment…

“I can pay you back,” he ventured.

"No, don't worry about it," Tifa told him. She smiled at him, kind and warm, and he found himself returning her smile without realizing it. “Think of it as a… as a gift, okay? Like a reunion gift. And a... no, never mind.”

Cloud’s smile slipped. “Tifa...”

“Besides, I couldn’t just walk away from it when I found it,” Tifa continued, and placed the pants back on the bed, right beside the shirt and the magnetic harness. “It was missing the shoulder guards though, and I could only find one replacement… I hope that’s all right,” she added, worrying her lip. “Be extra careful with your right shoulder, okay?”

“I will.”

Tifa briefly smiled at him before returning her attention to the clothes. “Well, want to try it on?” When Cloud nodded, she continued, “And then, if you're feeling up for it, we can try to find you a proper weapon. And afterwards, maybe we can pick up a late lunch or dinner," she cheerfully added. "How does that sound?”

"Good," Cloud replied, and slowly pulled himself back onto his feet and made his way into the restroom to change.

When the door clicked shut behind him, and he quickly replaced Biggs' clothes with the old SOLDIER uniform Tifa had bought him. He was surprised by how well these clothes fit by comparison. The turtleneck didn’t hang off of him like Biggs’ t-shirt had, and while the pants were still a little loose around the waist, tightening the belt fixed that problem. All in all, he stared at his reflection and realized that it all felt… right. Familiar even, and the realization almost had him smiling. He hadn’t realized how desperately he craved familiarity before this moment.

 _Maybe I've worn a uniform like this before_ _,_ he thought as he strapped the left shoulder guard in place. It wasn’t the smooth, hard-leather guard of a typical SOLDIER uniform. This guard was little more than two pieces of curved metal held together by thick screws, but it was more comfortable and fit far better than what Cloud had been expecting. Coupled with the magnetic sword holster onto his back, he found himself staring at his reflection in the mirror, wide-eyed. He looked like…

Well, he looked like a SOLDIER.

But as he stared at himself – at his new uniform, at the mako burning in his eyes – he realized that he wasn’t happy by it. In fact, disappointment stung bitterly in his chest. _Why?_ he wondered, confused by his own reaction, but then realization set in.

Yes, it was all familiar. But he certainly didn’t remember anything about _being_ in SOLDIER. No memories bubbled from the dark crevices of his mind, no images burst forth from the fog, and he tore his gaze away from the mirror.

_Why can’t I remember?_

His gaze flicked to the trash can, still full of his old hospital clothes, and he looked away. Swallowing a sigh, he reached down to collect Biggs’ clothes, meaning to grab them before showing Tifa that the uniform fit…

… but something caught his attention in the mirror. Something like long silver hair and pair of eyes, green and slitted, and he dragged his gaze up without thinking.

Only to go deathly still. His breath hitched in his throat and phantom pain flickered through his chest as Sephiroth smiled at him, their gazes meeting from within the mirror. _No,_ Cloud’s mind screamed, screamed in absolute rejection, but the only sound that escaped his lips was a shuddering breath. _He can’t be here._ Yet there Sephiroth was, standing just as Cloud remembered; tall, lean, his black armor impenetrable and ivory shoulder guards shined, blemish-less, untouched. Like before, Sephiroth's slitted eyes looking down on Cloud like he was _nothing,_ and looking up, Cloud could see the madness burning in the ex-General's eyes. It was the same madness Cloud had seen when he had run him through.

Sweat pricked Cloud's brow as he stared, his breathing ragged. “You can’t be here,” he whispered. His voice trembled between them as he stared at the mirror, unable to tear gaze away even if he wanted to. “I… _killed_ you.”

Sephiroth's lips sharpened into a brittle smile. _"_ _You can't escape me, Cloud,"_ he murmured.

His cool, crisp voice echoed in Cloud's head and bounced around in his mind, ricocheted off of his walls, and Cloud gasped, a small, desperate sound. _He’s here._ Memories bubbled to the surface, unbidden and unwanted, until Cloud could feel Sephiroth's katana Matsume slide into his chest. Until he could feel the sharp sting of the freezing metal. Until he could feel it pull and tear at things inside of him, _breaking_ things, and suddenly Cloud was no longer in Tifa's apartment but in Nibelheim's mako reactor, stabbed through, his feet dangling over the ledge...

Cloud gasped and, forcing himself to turn away from the mirror, spun around but he moved too quickly, far too quickly, and hit the floor with a teeth-clattering thud. His ears were ringing. Ringing, and his mouth tasted like copper, but he hardly noticed as he scrambled back to his feet. It sounded as if a thousand birds were chirping in his head…

There was a knock on the door, followed by and urgent, _"Cloud,_ _what was that_ _?"_

But Cloud didn't hear. His chest heaved as his eyes darted around the small room, his back pressed against the hard sink, sweat pricking his brow. But Sephiroth wasn't here, and with a start, Cloud realized that Sephiroth had never been here at all. That Cloud was in Tifa's apartment, not the reactor, and relief made him lightheaded. He was safe. He was okay. He was just… just tired, and seeing things. That's all it was.

Another knock, this time followed by a more urgent, _"Cloud?_ _Are you okay?_ _"_

"I – I'm fine." Cloud hated how he couldn't stop his voice was trembling, but he prayed to whatever god that cared that Tifa wouldn’t notice. His fingers trembled as they pressing against his chest, where Matsume ran him through, as if to reassure himself that the infamous blade wasn't there anymore. "Just… tripped.”

 _"_ _Really?"_ Cloud could hear the disbelief in Tifa's voice, her worry, as she continued, _"_ _Can you unlock the door?"_

Cloud’s head jerked to the door, suddenly terrified that it was already unlocked. She couldn't see him right now. She couldn't. If she did, she wouldn't let him go on Barret's dumb job tomorrow, and if he didn't go, then he couldn't keep his promise to _help_ her. And he _had_ to keep his promise.

He _had_ to.

Cloud slowly inhaled and forced his heart rate to calm, to steady. It was a trick he learned from the infantry, and when he spoke again, he was pleased that his voice was even. "I’ll be right out," he said. "Almost done."

There was a pause. The heavy sort, the kind that made Cloud nervous, before Tifa sighed and said, _"Okay."_ He could hear her footsteps grow quieter as she stepped away from the door, followed by the groan of her mattress as she sat down upon it.

And Cloud released the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding, and thoughtless, he quickly splashed water on his face before drying off with a towel. He glanced at the mirror only once more, just to assure himself that he didn't look nearly as pallid and unhinged as he felt, before pointedly avoiding the mirror as he stepped out of the restroom.

Tifa's head snapped to him, her ruby-eyes bright with concern. "You good?"

"Tripped."

Tifa gave him a look, one that said that she didn’t believe his story at all and Cloud resisted the urge to drop his gaze.

Desperate to change the topic, Cloud held his arms out a bit to pull her attention off of him and onto the outfit instead. "It fits."

But Tifa wasn't so easily distracted. "You're pale," she stated, her tone accusing. "Your hands are shaking."

Cloud resisted his knee-jerk reaction to hide his hands behind his back, and said again, "I tripped."

He really needed to think of a better excuse.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Tifa dropped her gaze and sighed. "Cloud...”

“I’m fine."

“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay,” Tifa continued, as if he hadn't spoken at all. She wrung her hands in her lap, and Cloud noted that she was wearing leather gloves. _Fighting_ gloves. “If you don’t feel well and don’t want me to know, that’s okay too. I’ll pretend not to notice. But...” She sighed and, after a heartbeat, lifted her eyes to meet his own, and for a second Cloud realized that her eyes _weren’t_ the color of wine. That they were so much darker, so much deeper; like a fading sunset over dark water, or a star’s flare moments before going dark. “But you don’t have to lie to me. Please don’t lie to me,” Tifa amended, pleaded. “Can you promise me that?”

Cloud turned away, shame coloring his cheeks a faint pink. A moment passed, and then another, before he whispered, “Okay." 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, her tone hesitant.

Cloud shook his head, no longer trusting his voice.

“Okay.” She watched him for a moment. “Then do you still want to weapon shopping today?”

After a pause, he nodded.

“Okay,” Tifa said again. “And...” She paused, as if searching for the right words. “And do you want me to tell Barret you don’t want to go tomorrow?”

Cloud turned to her, wide-eyed.

“Cloud, you’re not well,” Tifa gently told him. “And I know that you want to go,” she continued before he could put a word in, “but I don’t think it’s such a good idea. Not yet, anyway.”

“I’m fi -” Cloud began, but stopped himself at the last moment and said instead, “I can do it,” There – not a lie.

For a moment, Tifa didn’t reply and Cloud couldn’t look at her, didn’t want to face her. Finally, after what felt like years, Tifa sighed and said, “I believe you.”

Cloud turned to her, stunned. Out of everything he had been expecting her to say, _I believe you_ was fairly far down the list.

“I believe you,” Tifa said again at his incredulous look. She even managed to smile at him, but it was a small smile, a thin smile. “But if something feels... feels _wrong_ up until then, and you change your mind… You’ll tell me?”

Cloud paused, then nodded. He could promise that.

“Good,” she said, and stood up from the bed. Smoothing her skirt, she continued, “Did you still want to go out?”

“Yeah." Anything to get out of the apartment, just for a moment.

“Then how about we get lunch first before going to the weapons shop?” Tifa's watched him, far more intently than he was comfortable with. “You’ve only had yesterday’s curry today, right?”

Cloud nodded in response.

“Perfect.” Tifa clapped her hands together, momentarily startling him, before reaching to grab her keys and wallet. “Have you had chicken paella before? Or boba?” she asked.

Cloud’s lips twitched in a frown. _Chicken paella_ sounded vaguely familiar, like something he had eaten once in the infantry mess hall, but _boba_ was entirely unfamiliar. “Boba?”

“You haven’t!” Tifa's expression brightened, and she grinned at him. “We'll get it then. It’s a drink from Wutai, and very different from what we have here. It’s like a milk tea,” she added as she unlocked the door, “but with like, these sticky, gooey, gummy balls inside that you slurp up.”

Cloud made a face. “That sounds… gross.”

Tifa laughed. “It’s really not that bad! I’ll take you to my favorite place,” she added as she ushered him outside. “It has lots of different flavors, but Banora White Apple is my favorite. It’s sweet and crisp. Perfect for midday.”

“Oh,” Cloud said, but he was no longer listening. His gaze was pinned inside the apartment as Tifa closed and locked the door behind them, and he was half-convinced that Sephiroth would step into view at the last second…

“You okay?” Tifa asked, jolting Cloud from his thoughts. She followed his gaze and peered into the apartment. “Did I forget anything?”

Cloud shook his head. “No. Nothing."

“Hm.” Tifa frowned at him for a moment, but then continued telling him about boba and all of the different flavors as she guided him down the stairs. Cloud followed close behind, paying attention to every other word. Every nerve felt on edge.

He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.

* * *

Sunlight dappled the flowers, staining them richer shades of yellow and gold, and a small breeze whispered through the church. It was a warm breeze, kind and inviting, and Aerith closed her eyes against the breeze as it passed by. She listened as it whispered by, just in case it had something important to say.

But as usual, the wind was silent. Gentle, but silent, and even though Aerith knew no one was coming, her emerald gaze darted to the church door regardless, just in case it was wrong and Zack would come striding through any moment. She could picture him now; his dark hair windblown, a cheeky smile on his lips, striding in with stories of far-off lands. Just as he once did years upon years ago.

Aerith smiled a little to herself. It was funny, looking back. That even though the outside world had never held much interest to her, she would always – _always –_ hang onto Zack’s every word. Somehow, he had always made the world beyond Midgar's walls seem so… so _interesting_. So full of life and excitement, and even she was half-daring herself to go out beneath the open sky and explore it. The blue sky had always intimidated her, but if Zack was with her… maybe it would grow on her, just like the steel sky above the slums.

She had given up on that small little wish of hers when Zack had disappeared, but lately, she had felt that small dream reignite deep within her. Sometimes she even caught herself daydreaming of wayward lands as she tended the flowers. She would wonder what the flowers would look like out there, if they were any different than the yellow variety here, or what sorts of food grows beyond Midgar's walls. It was exciting to think about. Scary, of course. But exciting.

She placed a flower into her basket, her thoughts already drifting somewhere far away. Zack had told her all sorts of stories on his hometown, Gongaga – maybe they could go there first. Or maybe they would stay a little closer to home and visit Kalm, which was supposedly just a day's journey on foot. That may be a little safer.

 _And Cloud could come too_ _,_ Aerith thought as she carefully plucked another flower. She held the flower delicately in her hand, and her eyes traced its graceful stem, its thin leaves, its fragile petals. _Once he's feeling better._

As always, whenever she thought of Zack's best friend, she recalled the moment Cloud had pushed Zack away and had ran out of the hospital. It had been so surprising at the time. Shocking, even. Not only because Cloud didn't look physically capable of pushing _anyone_ out of the way, or running so quickly, but Aerith also recalled the terror in blue eyes. The panic.

Aerith sighed at the flower in her palm, and then gingerly placed it with the others in the basket. _Maybe it's the mako poisoning,_ she thought. Zack _had_ mentioned that Cloud had severe mako poisoning, the worst case that the hospital had ever seen, and had also let it slip that the nurse was surprised that Cloud was even alive. That the nurse had said most people with Cloud’s level of mako poisoning were long dead.

Aerith reached for another flower… but paused, and with a sigh, placed her hands on her lap. She had seen someone with mako poisoning, once. It was a man who used to help out at the orphanage, a mako reactor engineer that Shinra had contracted. She recalled that he had slipped off of the railing and had fallen in one of the mako holding tanks. That he had been submerged for _five hours_ before someone had noticed, and had pulled him out. It sounded terrifying.

But recalling what had happened _afterwards_ made her skin pepper with goosebumps, even today, and she quickly rubbed her arms to rid herself of them. After the man had been found, she had visited him at the hospital along with some of the other helpers from the orphanage. The man had comatose for months, but when he woke up, he had been… different. He was seeing things. Hearing things that weren’t there. The nurses had said the hallucinations were because he had been submerged in mako – the Planet’s lifestream – for so long, and pieces of him had gotten mixed into it as well. No human being was meant to experience what the Planet experienced.

 _Except for the Cetra,_ Aerith thought. Cetra, or the Ancients, were the keepers and carers for the Planet. And that man had been no Cetra.

Aerith sighed. Back then, she had heard him rambling during the hallucinations, had seen him convulse, and then nurses had pulled her out of the room when he had simply… stopped moving. Like his body decided that it had had enough, and that it wanted to rest. His body disintegrated into the Lifestream shortly after.

She had felt him pass. It was the second time she had felt someone near her die – the first had been her biological mother – but this felt… different. Like the man didn’t go all at once, but in pieces. In beautiful, broken, bloody pieces.

It made Aerith’s stomach tighten just remembering it, and she plucked another flower to distract her. Holding it in front of her to check for any blemishes, she nodded, satisfied, before adding it to her basket. Despite Cloud’s mako poisoning being far more severe than that man’s, she didn’t feel that same sense of dread as she had back then. She _knew_ Cloud would never reach that point. She didn’t know how or why she knew that, exactly, but she got the sense that the Planet needed Cloud for something. For something important, and that worried her. Being necessary to the Planet wasn’t always a good thing.

Aerith plucked another flower, her fingers delicate against its thin stem.

In fact, more often than not, it could almost be considered cruel.


	11. Secrets and Censorship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Lab Flashback

The Turk intelligence outpost in Sector Four, located in an inconspicuous alleyway, was smaller than Zack had imagined. _Far_ smaller, and it reminded the ex-SOLDIER of more of a shack than anything else. The only difference was that, unlike the average shack, this outpost had been built to last. The door had been reinforced with steel, the walls were thick and soundproof, and while the exterior blended in with the nondescript buildings around it, the inside was the picture of modern technology.

Zack pressed his Turk contractor ID - courtesy of Tseng - against the door's subtle ID scanner. With a faint click it unlocked, and the first thing he noticed was that the outpost/shack had been divided into two rooms. The first contained a series of monitors, at least a dozen or so, while the other, smaller room – more a closet than anything else – contained several computer servers and filing cabinets.

The rooms were also freezing cold, and Zack wished that he had brought a jacket as he stood at the outpost's doorway. Frowning, his bright eyes flicking across the many monitors, he said, "It's… nice?"

"It's shit," came Reno's immediate reply. Reno still sat in the passenger's seat, and the engine hummed beneath him as he propped his head up with a gloved hand. "Don't even bother pretending otherwise."

"Well..." Zack made a face. While Reno and Rude had _clearly_ said that his mission would be to view security footage, his imagination and the actual image before him were two very different things. For the first time, it occurred to him that this might actually be a challenge. His computer skills, or _lack_ of computer skills for that matter, was nearly five years out of date. He wasn't even confident he could turn the computers on. "Um..."

"Keep the ID card with you at all times," Rude interrupted, "and don't leave until we return."

"Yeah, if you lose your ID, you're S.O.L," Reno seamlessly added. He was inspecting his fingers, entirely bored by the conversation. "We'll be back at 1300. Until then..." His lips sharpened as he glanced at Zack. "Well, have a blast, Fair."

Zack scowled at him. "Whatever. Enjoy your own mission."

"Always," Reno drawled. With that, Rude hit the gas and the two of them drove out of the alleyway and disappeared around the corner. Zack watched them as they left, then sighed and re-entered the outpost, taking care to close and lock the door behind him. He had a feeling that this was going to be a real chore.

The outpost's air tasted stale as he switched on the lights. Stale and sharp, and coupled with the iridescent lights, Zack suddenly felt nauseous. Claustrophobic. The room was too small, far too small, and suddenly he felt like he was back in his holding cell. His throat tightened as his finger twitched, an echo of tapping against his glass cell as he tried to talk to Cloud, tried to get Cloud to engage in some sort of conversation because he had been getting more and more dazed, more and more disconnected from his surroundings, and Zack was afraid that he would eventually disengage from the world completely.

And then he had.

 _Don't think about that,_ Zack ordered himself, and firmly shoved those thoughts from min as he sat down in the office chair. Its leather groaned beneath him as he switched the computer on. Technology had never been his forte – he had always preferred bashing things in with a sword – but he would just have to deal with it today. He would _have_ to, because this was his best chance at finding Cloud. Of making sure that Cloud was okay.

A moment passed, and the computer screen flared to life. Zack squinted at the sudden pale light, then frowned at it prompted him to enter his security credentials. _The hell are those?_ Reno had never mentioned anything about _credentials,_ but just as he was beginning to panic – if he didn't have the credentials, he couldn't log in, and that meant he couldn't look for Cloud – he noticed a card port beside the monitor. Inspired, he slid his ID card in, and held his breath.

**[ CREDENTIALS ACCEPTED ]**

Zack sharply exhaled in relief as the screen flashed to life. Then:

**[ INITIATING MIDGAR SECURITY SYSTEM FEED ]**

**[ PROCESSING… ]**

Another flicker.

**[ PROCESSING… ]**

The a pause. A lengthy one, far longer than Zack liked, when the screen suddenly flared again.

**[ BEGINNING SECURITY FEED ]**

Zack flinched as all of the monitors suddenly turned on at the same time. Videos, timestamped and geo-tagged, began streaming through all of them, a blur of soundless color and images. And he watched, transfixed. Excited. Overwhelmed.

Then he realized: This _is too much_. His fingertips hovered over the keyboard, uncertain, uneasy. Fighting monsters he could do, but _this_ … having to filter through all of this data for one person out of _thousands,_ or even _tens_ of thousands, without any clue or idea or lead…

Zack shakily inhaled, then began to type. He didn't know how he was going to do it, had no damn clue in fact, but he was going to try. He had to at least do that.

* * *

Rude anxiously adjusted his collar as he and Reno stepped in front of a pharmacy shop. It was a small place, local and relatively unknown, and he had a difficult time accepting that it was providing the bio-terrorist group Avalanche key ingredients to homemade explosives. It simply looked too flimsy for that. Too… nondescript.

But that was the entire point, wasn't it?

"This sucks," Reno said beside him. The red-haired Turk tapped the ground with his foot, and his fingers were never far from his electro-mag rod. "Do we really gotta raid a piece-of-shit place like this?"

Over the years, Rude had learned to ignore Reno's complaining… or at least, to not encourage it. "Tseng's orders," he said simply.

"Yeah, well..." Reno's green eyes flicked across the pharmacy's storefront. "Doesn't mean it doesn't suck."

The pharmacy was on the upper plate, which meant that the windows weren't cracked, the door fit properly, and there was a fresh coat of white paint covering the building's natural concrete. That was about it, however. There were no other decorations, no neon lights, no potted plants on the front doorstep.

Reno tapped the door with his foot. "It's very plain."

But Reno hadn't seemed to hear. "Do you think we should tell Fair?" he asked instead. He turned to his partner with a conflicted expression. "You know, about Ho -"

Rude shook his head, firmly. "Tseng should be the one to tell him."

Reno watched his partner for a moment, then sighed. "Yeah, you're right." Shrugging, he continued, "So-" he waved at the door, "- are we doing this, or not?"

In response, Rude kicked the door open.

Like the outside, the pharmacy's inside was simple and plain. There were a couple aisles of over-the-counter medicine, some bandages, some cold compresses. Behind the counter was where the good stuff was, and the man standing there stared at the Turks with wide eyes. The man was also ordinary; late-fifties, wore simple business-casual attire, and was balding.

He was also sweating profusely, and nervously wrung his hands together as he attempted to smile at the two Turks. "W – Welcome," the man began, but Reno cut him off.

"Shove it, we both know we're not welcome." Reno strode up the front counter and splayed his hands against it, the tile cold beneath his fingerless gloves. "I take it you know who we are."

The pharmacy's owner nodded. He had gone pale, and his hands trembled as he wrung them together. "S – Sirs, I -"

"Good." Reno turned to Rude, who nodded and moved to block the door. Smirking, Reno glanced back at the man and continued, "We know about your little side business, old man. And we also know that you've been doing pretty damn well these past few days, too." He arched a delicate eyebrow, his smile sharp. "Explosives, maybe?"

The man paled further, if possible. "I – I don't -"

"Oh, cut the shit, _please_." Reno was now pacing back and forth in front of the counter, his fingertips brushed against his weapon. Rude knew that Reno wasn't planning on using it, not here – it was purely for the intimidation factor. That said, it was also extremely effective. The man shrank back, and his back pressed into the counter of prescription meds behind him. "Either start talking," Reno continued, "or we're dragging you back to base and making you."

The man's Adam's apple bobbed. "I… I might have... might have sold..."

" _Faster,"_ Reno hissed.

"I sold a few cases of hydrogen peroxide to a young lady two days ago," the man stammered out. "It's… It's an oxygen-binding reagent, but also used to disinfect superficial wou - "

Reno slammed his hands on the counter. "I know what it is. Just give me names. _Now,"_ he sharply added, and the man flinched before finding something to write with.

* * *

Zack was a technological genius.

That's what he told himself as he leaned back in the office chair, grinning, his hands folded behind his head, as he basked in the glory of success. The monitors displayed yesterday's security footage, with the datetime stamp in the evening and the geo-location specified for the Turk hospital. _Exactly_ what he wanted.

Now he just had to wait.

His bright eyes flicked across the screen, and the mako within them glowed from anticipation. His gaze jumped from monitor to monitor; first of the train station, then of some open-air market, then to the back exit of the hospital…

Then his eyes flew wide.

_There._

He watched, transfixed, as a grainy image of Cloud stumbled out of the hospital's emergency exit, gasping and panting and bleeding from his hands and knees. But then his head cocked to the side, as if he heard something, before turning his head…

_Oh my god._

Zack's stomach clenched, and he quickly rewound the video a few seconds, then paused.

"Shit," he quietly hissed, and then zoomed in on Cloud's face. At his wild, terrified eyes. In the frame, Cloud's eyes _weren't_ just the sky-blue shade of mako, but a striking emerald green. They were also slitted, just like a cat's.

_Just like Sephiroth's._

Nauseous, Zack leaned back into the chair. The leather groaned beneath him. _**Exactly** like Sephiroth, _his mind repeated, and the thought echoed in his mind, repeated over and over again, bounced and reverberated through his entire being. He pressed a hand against his mouth, his brows furrowed. _Shit._ He had _known_ Hojo had done things to Cloud. Had done _lots_ of things, in fact. Fuck, Hojo had become borderline _obsessed_ with Cloud, and had been constantly injecting him with who-knows-what, at all hours, no matter what Cloud had been subjected to earlier in the day.

It was only later that Zack realized that what Hojo had been pumping into Cloud was S-cells – the genetic code of Sephiroth - in the hopes that Cloud would become even more perfect than Hojo's most infamous creation. Zack's hands formed tight fists at the memories; Cloud, screaming until he went hoarse, vomiting mako and blood, being unconscious for days at a time. But that's what Hojo had _liked_ about Cloud. Cloud had been _so_ sensitive to the mako treatment, to the S-cells, that it had made him the perfect specimen.

 _Until he couldn't take it anymore,_ Zack's mind supplied as he continued to stare at the computer monitor, at Cloud's slitted green eyes, wide and terrified and so bright they saturated the screen. Zack's mind slipped back to the lab, and remembered when Cloud's body had begun to shut down. Remembered how he had _begged_ them to stop the experiments, and how they didn't listen until Cloud simply…

Zack squeezed his eyes shut, and his breath shuddered between his fingers. _Shit._ He couldn't think about that right now, because if he did, he'd fucking lose it. He had to think rationally. Not emotionally.

If Cloud had Sephiroth's eyes, then maybe… _just maybe_ … Hojo's treatments had been a success after all. Zack blinked open his eyes. _And what would that mean for Cloud?_ he thought darkly... only to violently shake his head, as if physically forcing the thought out of his mind. _Don't go there._ Whatever Hojo had done back then - had done to the _both_ of them - there was nothing Zack could do about it. Not right this second, anyway. There was other things he could do right now, important things, like figuring out where the hell Cloud went after he left the hospital.

With that thought firmly in mind, Zack deeply inhaled continued to play the security footage.

Within the video, Cloud's image once again cocked his head – his eyes burning a shocking shade of green – before turning and running down a different street. He was a little more than a gray blur against the concrete ground. _No wonder Cloud outran everyone,_ Zack thought as he began fishing for the congruent video. _He's far faster than a SOLDIER should be._

 _As fast as Sephiroth even,_ his mind brutally added.

Zack grimaced, and it took a minute, but he finally found it – then surveillance footage from the Sector Six train station. He watched as Cloud staggered up the steps, as if drawn to the sound of the whistling train, before his head snapped to the chainlink fence. He immediately began walking to it, almost bumping into an elderly couple on the way, before he grabbed the fence and rattled it, as if trying to get through… but then a sharp cough wracked his thin body, and suddenly he was on his knees, fingers still entwined around the fence's sharp wires.

Zack's throat felt tight as Cloud sagged against the fence, rapidly weakening. Sometime between the hospital and the train staton, his eyes had faded back into teal and he closed his eyes, his lips pressed together, as if he was about to cry. He sank fully to the ground.

And then something happened that Zack had not been expecting.

 _Tifa_ walked up the stairs.

Zack watched, wide-eyed, as the young girl he knew from Nibelheim suddenly dropped her groceries and ran to Cloud's side. Watched as Cloud batted her hand away, terrified, before suddenly recognizing her and mouthing her name.

 _Aerith was right,_ Zack thought, stunned. _Cloud really was going to meet a friend._

And the realization – that Cloud was with someone that he trusted, someone that he actually knew – misted his eyes. His dark musings aside, he was relieved to know that Cloud was okay for the time being. And Tifa… Tifa was _alive,_ and she hadn't died in Nibelheim after all. Cloud had one more friend in the great, wide world.

 _Thank god._ He sighed, taking a moment to collect himself, before turning his attention back to the screen. _I wonder if she still hates SOLDIERs,_ he wondered as he watched Tifa help Cloud up and they disappeared into the train together. _And Shinra._

 _Well… I guess it's a good thing I'm neither,_ he thought with a small smile. He felt as if a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. Cloud was okay and he was with _Tifa,_ all of people.

He slumped in his seat, boneless. "Thank god," he murmured again to the quiet room. Aerith had really been right after all, but while he was beside himself with amazement, he couldn't exactly say that he was surprised. She had always seemed to know more than she should, but still. Damn. Hearing her tell him that Cloud was with a friend, and actually seeing the scene play out in front of him, were two very different things.

 _I should buy her something nice,_ Zack thought. _A necklace? Or maybe a new ribbon? She's been wearing the same one I got her all this time…_

 _Or maybe I should finally fix that cart._ He faintly grinned at the thought, but something on the monitor suddenly demanded his attention. Zack glanced at the screen out of reflex. The footage was from the camera outside of the Shinra HQ building, and someone was walking up the steps. A very familiar someone. Someone on the older side, a man wearing a white lab coat...

Zack suddenly felt hot and cold at the same time. Like he had been set on fire and then dropped in the snow, but he was still burning, burning and freezing, and...

 _"Hojo,_ " he breathed into the dark. He shot to his feet, unable to remain sitting a moment longer. _No fuckin' way._ This couldn't be happening, Hojo couldn't be here, he... _No no no no._ Zack's gaze flicked to the timestamp - the video was dated to the day before, so it was recent.

 _Too_ recent.

Zack took a shaky step from the monitor, and then another. _Hojo is in Midgar._ His stomach clenched; his forehead broke out in a sheen of cold sweat. Every nerve felt on fire, and the world had shifted into shades of green – the telltale sign that his adrenaline was going, that his body was preparing to fight, that the mako in his blood was alive and screaming. He had never even _considered_ that Hojo could be in Midgar, because his mind, Hojo's place was in Nibelheim, in the lab underneath the Shinra Manor. He didn't _exist_ anywhere else.

But now…

 _He's here,_ Zack knew, and his breath shivered between his lips. _He's maybe fifteen minutes from where I am_. And the realization suddenly made it hard to breath. Like the walls were closing in on him, descending on him, _trapping_ him, the iridescent lights were flat and humming, the air tasted sharp and acidic with mako...

He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe, and he ripped the ID out of the computer without a second thought. The monitors went black but he was already running out of the outpost, the air shockingly warm compared to the icy dark with the intelligence outpost. He inhaled, a desperate, strangled gasp, and started sprinting.

He needed to find Cloud. Needed to find him _now,_ because Hojo was here, Hojo was here and Cloud was in danger…

_I need to find Aerith first._

The thought tore through his ragged mind like a bullet, a feeling he was intimately familiar with. If Aerith had known about Cloud's friend, so maybe – _just maybe_ – she could pull off another miracle. In fact, maybe she already knew where Cloud was. Maybe he just had to ask.

It wasn't much a plan, admittedly. But it was the only plan he had, and it calmed something inside of him. Soothed his frayed, raw nerves, and he began to run all the faster.

He would have to find Cloud before Hojo did.

He _had_ to.

* * *

Unlike most bars in the slums, the Seventh Heaven was closed during the midday. There were no guests walking up and down its wooden stairs, no one was serving drinks inside, and the lights strung about the entrance were dark. In fact, during the day, the Seventh Heaven almost looked abandoned. Like the only visitors were ghosts.

And that was _exactly_ the way Barret liked it. It wasn't that he didn't like the business that Seventh Heaven brought in – or the gil, for that matter – but, still. He and the general public didn't exactly get along. Not because he was a bad guy - he was just the opposite in fact, thank you very much - but he and the public were _far_ too different. As different as the sea was from the land. Maybe it was because he was a stranger to Midgar, maybe because of his self-declared profession, or maybe it was because one of his arms had been surgically grafted with a semi-automatic machine gun.

Regardless of the reasons, Barret was pretty damn happy that the bar was closed.

"Where the _hell_ is Tifa?" he demanded, ascending out of their secret base. The pinball machine clattered and hissed behind him as he stepped off, his footsteps loud and heavy against the wooden floorboards. "I can't find her damn _nowhere._ "

Biggs, who had been busy scowling at an engineering map of the Sector One reactor's inner layout, only shrugged.

It was Jessie who replied, "Probably with her boy," he tone teasing as she fiddled with her bomb. Barret frowned at the explosive, at the wires and shit dangling off of it. He didn't _like_ it when Jessie brought work to the bar, because while she was admittedly a genius with explosives, he didn't like them so damn close to where he was standing. _Or_ eating, for that matter. "You know," Jessie continued with a smirk, "the blond-haired one? The ex-SOLDIER? With the pretty baby-blue eyes and that pretty golden hair?"

Biggs shot Jessie a dry look. "Don't let Tifa hear you say that."

Jessie only laughed. "I'm only teasing," she replied before turning her smile to Barret. "But seriously though, she's probably with Cloud. Maybe at her apartment?"

Barret scowled. "Well, like hell I'm goin' over there just in case they're, well, you know..." His cheeks reddened and he ran a hand over his head. "Fuckin' shit, does it matter? Can someone find -"

 _"Daddy!"_ came a shrill, child-like voice behind the counter. A moment later, a young girl stomped into the main dining area, her hands on her hips and lips puckered into a scowl. "Language!"

Barret winced - of _course_ Marlene was awake, and not nappin' like she was supposed to. "Aw, I'm sorry honey." Attempting for a more contrite expression, he continued. "It just slipped out." Marlene nodded seriously, and Barret knelt down to her level and stretched out his arms for a hug. "Come give Daddy a hug."

Marlene watched him for a moment, still scowling… but then she giggled and ran forward, throwing her arms around his neck. With that, Barret effortlessly picked her up and she leaned against him, grinning. She loved behind up high.

 _Like a queen in her castle,_ Barret thought, trying and failing to suppress his own smile.

"Actually, now that I think about it," Wedge piped up from behind the counter, "I think I saw Tifa and Cloud heading to the junkyard." He was making a sandwich, something simple, with leftovers from the night before. He waved his butterknife through the air as he replied, "You know, Scrap Boulevard? With all the monsters?"

Barret scowled. _Scrap Boulevard?_ "Why the heh – why the _haystack,"_ he amended as Marlene scowled at him, "are they goin' there?"

"Not sure," Wedge shrugged. "Maybe to break in Cloud's new gear?"

Jessie grinned at that. "Yeah, I saw Tifa this morning going shopping. She didn't see me, _but_ I noticed that she was buying some armor. And not for her," she added, wagging her eyebrows, "but for her boy. She was _very_ serious about it, too. Poor shopkeeper guy was terrified when she started haggling. It was hilarious to watch."

"Well," Biggs said, not looking up from his map, "Tifa _is_ the best at getting good deals." It was true - it was why Tifa was placed in charge of buying all the supplies for Seventh Heaven, as well as their actual Avalanche gear.

"But like, have you ever seen her interested in any guy before, _ever_?" Jessie leaned forward, grinning, her makeshift bomb forgotten. "I mean, it's been like, what - four years? _five?_ \- since we all met, and she's _never_ dated anyone. Or shown any interest in a guy, ever!" Jessie threw her hands in the air. "I was starting to think that she swung the other way, you get what I'm saying?" She glanced at Biggs, waiting for confirmation. "You get it?"

"No," Biggs deadpanned.

Wedge took a bite of his sandwich, looking supremely uncomfortable. "Jessie," he said slowly, "I don't think Tifa would like us gossiping about her behind her back."

"It's not gossiping if we're just _talking,"_ Jessie stated matter-of-factly. "And I mean," she seamlessly continued, "Tifa's a pretty girl! And super smart! It's not like she didn't have any guys chasing after her, and if she wasn't interested in any of them, what was I supposed to think? Like, _I'd_ go out on a date with her." Turning to Biggs and smirking, she added, "Biggs, do you think Tifa and I would make a good couple?"

Biggs, his concentration torn away from his map, shot her a withering glance. "Do you mind? I'm trying to plan things out here."

Jessie laughed, and Barret cleared his throat. "Listen. I don't exactly give a shi… a _shucks_ … about who Tifa is interested in." _Shit,_ this not-cursing thing was hard. "Guy, girl, Mr. scrawny-ass-SOLDIER-boy -"

_"Daddy!"_

_Shit,_ he thought again. "Tifa can date whoever she wants, it don't matter to me," Barret finished, then shot Marlene an apologetic glance. "I'm trying, baby girl."

"Try harder," Marlene pouted.

Barret almost laughed out loud at that - at her tiny furrowed brow, her very serious expression - but managed to nod contritely. "I will, honey. And like I'was sayin'," he continued to the rest of the team, "I don't _care_ who she likes, as long as she does 'er job, and does it well. But I _need'_ ta speak to her about that _friend_ of hers." Glancing at Wedge, he asked, "You _positive_ they're at th' junkyard?"

Wedge took another bite of his sandwich. "Yeah, pretty sure."

"Actually, Barret," Biggs said, and looked up from his map for the first time, "I'd sit this one out if I were you." At Barret's incredulous look, Biggs continued, "Tifa came by the bar last night – it was my shift, you know – and we talked for a bit. Turns out that Cloud and her go way back. They're old friends," he enunciated. "And besides… she seems happier with him around. Smiles more."

Barret's frown deepened. He _had_ noticed that Tifa seemed a bit happier, and he _wanted_ her to be happy, but... well, that SOLDIER-boy rubbed him the wrong way. Something was fishy about him, and Barret just _knew_ it.

"I don't think it's our place to get in between them," Biggs hesitantly continued. Turning to the rest of the team, he added, "Right?"

"Right," Wedge agreed.

Jessie followed up with a, "Definitely. Besides," she added, leaning forward on her seat, "I kind of like Cloud." Propping her head up on her hands, she continued, "He's kinda funny. And speaks his mind," she added, grinning at Barret. "Cute face, too."

Barret scowled at that particular memory. "That boy ain't _funny._ He's rude as all he...ck," he quickly ammended, wincing.

Marlene dramatically sighed at Barret's censoring attempts.

"So." Jessie's expression suddenly shifted, and her copper eyes dropped to her hands. It was then Barret noticed just how tightly she was clenching them together. The knuckles were white with strain, and the skin was shined and clammy. "Do you… think we'll be okay tomorrow?" She bit her lip. "For our mission?"

"Heck yes," Barret stated.

Jessie flashed him a small smile.

But Marlene only tilted her head to the side, her lips beginning to pucker into a frown, and asked, "Where are you going?"

Something inside Barret deflated slightly, and steeling himself, he slowly sat Marlene down on the bar counter. She blinked at him, her brown eyes wide and confused. "Daddy's gonna go visit some ol' coworkers, sweetheart."

Marlene's lips curved into a frown. "But… But you're _always_ gone."

"I know, baby girl. I know." Barret sighed; how could he explain this? How could he make her understand – understand that he was doing it for her, for her future? "This… is only a temporary thing. You see, honey…" His voice lowered. "You see, the Planet is hurtin'. Hurtin' _real_ bad, and Daddy and his friends have to go out there and stop the people who are hurtin' it. You understand?"

"But..." Marlene's gaze dropped to her shoes, small and pink. Kicking her feet off the counter's edge, she murmured, "But I want you to stay."

"As soon as the Planet is safe, I'll stay forever," Barret promised.

Marlene's eyes lit up. "Forever and ever?" she asked, and Barret smiled.

"Forever and ever and ever."

* * *

The artificial sun burned dim, the telltale sign that midday was over and that the _real_ sun – the sun that shined down on the upper plates – was beginning to make its way back towards the jagged horizon and stretch out the shadows as it fell. But not down in the slums. Here, below the Sector Seven plate, the shadows never shifted. They only darkened and faded depending on how brightly the artificial sun was burning at the time.

And Cloud's shadow was a faint smear against the ground as he darted forward, far more quickly than the eye could see, and cut through the first Wererat. The monster let out a pitiful squeal before slumping against the dirt, but Cloud was already turning, pivoting on one foot, his weapon a wild arch of destruction around him.

And his weapon was a gunblade. It was what he had decided on after holding claymores, katanas, daggers, rifles. The guns had felt the most familiar in his hands, which initially worried him - guns were not SOLDIER weapons, after all - but he _had_ been drawn to the swords. Drawn the edge of their blades, the sheer savagery of it, and the knowledge that he might have wielded one in his fragmented memories. So in the end, and at Tifa's encouragement, he had compromised: he accepted the familiarity of a gun, but also desperately clung onto the sword... as well as everything that sword represented: His hopes; His dreams; The promise he had made so many years ago.

And Cloud was a natural swordsman… to the untrained eye. To anyone but a SOLDIER, he was a storm of flashing metal and steel, a torrent of destruction. He cut through the wererats as if they were _nothing,_ and bursts of green surrounded him as the monsters faded back into the Lifestream. Soon it was as if he was surrounded by fireflies, and their soft glow danced about his moving form as he dodged, twisted, turned. Adrenaline burned his eyes a striking shade of mako blue, and the color mingled with the fading fragments of the Lifestream until they seemed to be one and the same.

Yet, Cloud felt awkward. Clumsy. He could dodge, he could attack, and he could kill. But he felt as if he was reacting instead of taking the initiative, like he was entirely reliant on his body's enhanced reflexes, speed, and strength to fight. There was no skill behind his attacks. No technique. Only instinct.

In fact, he felt as if he had never used a sword before.

He pivoted, the ashen dust of Scrap Boulevard pillowing his boot, before parrying a wererat's lunge.

_Maybe I haven't._

The thought tore across his mind, unwelcome and unwanted, and Cloud clenched his jaw against it. Yes, the gun had felt far more familiar, but he had hoped that his body would remember the sword even if his mind hadn't. But clearly, it didn't, which led him to his next train of thought. Since his memories between Nibelheim and Midgar were gone, maybe that applied to his body's memories as well. But he would remember. He eventually would, because he _had_ to. His memories couldn't be gone forever.

He bit his lip.

Could they?

_"Cloud!"_

Tifa's shout snapped Cloud out of his spiraling thoughts, and he stepped to the side just as another wererat slashed the spot he was just at. He clenched his jaw – _I should have noticed that –_ before lifting his gunsword and firing, once.

His aim was perfect. It bullet pierced the wererat between the eyes, a perfect shot, and Cloud lowered his arm with a faint exhale. The wererat slammed against the ground, lifeless, and he stared at it a moment before it shattered into green shards and faded away.

The air was choked with the taste of the Lifestream, and it tasted like metal. Like copper, or iron, and Cloud instinctively pressed his hand against his mouth even as he glanced at his surroundings. His luminous eyes flicked across the landscape, but saw nothing. He had finished all of the monsters off.

"Well done." Tifa had been watching him from the sidelines, but now she jogged up to him, her expression bright. "You looked good out there! Like a real SOLDIER."

Heat kissed Cloud's cheeks and he turned away, obviously pleased by the compliment, and desperate not to show it. He nearly told her right then that he didn't _remember_ being in SOLDIER, not to mention that SOLDIERs don't use gunswords and that they used _real_ swords... but he caught himself at the last moment. "Well," he managed instead, "I'm rusty."

Tired, too. Exhausted even, but it was the good sort of exhaustion. The kind that he felt in his body instead of in his mind, and his mind felt the most clear since he had woken up in Tifa's apartment. Glancing back at the junk littering Scrap Boulevard, Cloud resolved to come back here more often, to train. His mind needed it. Hell, his _body_ needed it. He was far too thin as it was, and he needed to rebuild the muscle he had lost due to… well, whatever had happened to him.

"You look worried," Tifa pointed out. She had sat down on a piece of scrap metal and Cloud, after a moment, joined her.

Cloud shook his head as he eased beside her. "Not worried," he said simply. "Just… thinking that I should come out here more."

"We can come whenever you'd like," Tifa promised. "And you say you're rusty, but you looked really good out there, Cloud. Really." Cloud shrugged, a faint blush kissing his cheeks that were still flushed from fighting. "And you're fast. Like, _really_ fast. Sometimes it looked like there were actually two of you out there," she added, her tone teasing.

Cloud shrugged. "It's just the mako." Despite just sitting down to rest, his breathing was already beginning to slow, to even - another indication of his mako enhancements. His heart rate began to calm, and the adrenaline of battle was fading. Even the world itself, which had gone green during the fighting, was beginning to fade back into their normal shades.

"Well, it looked pretty cool," Tifa said, grinning at him. "But how was your sword? Did it feel okay?"

Cloud glanced down at the gunsword, now stretched across his lap. He ran his hand down its sword – thin, silver, with the blade gently curved to a tapered point – before his palm met the hilt, where a pistol had been embedded into the sword's design. He would have preferred a rifle, but...

"Good," he finally said. "Not what… I'm used to. But I'm getting the hang of it." It wasn't a lie – the gunsword _wasn't_ was he was used to, but not in the way Tifa was thinking. It was the _sword_ that felt strange in his hands... not the gun.

"Could'a fooled me," Tifa grinned, and she began speaking about something else, but Cloud only half paid attention.

His thoughts flickered another direction, unbidden, into somewhere darker.

Thoughts such like, _Why am I better with the gun than a sword?_

_What if I never remember anything?_

_What if I wasn't actually in SOL -_

"Cloud?" Tifa said, interrupting his thoughts.

Cloud blinked, startled, before flashing her a wane smile. "Sorry. I'm here."

Tifa returned his smile, though hesitantly. "I was asking you if you were hungry," she explained. "It's almost time for dinner."

Cloud's expression shifted into surprise. "It's been that long?"

"Yeah. Time flies when you're having fun," she grinned, her tone teasing. "But anyway – anything you're in the mood for? We can get boba again, since you liked it _sooo_ much last time."

Cloud made a face. Tifa had made him try boba for lunch, and he decided that he did not like it. No – _did not like_ was far too tame of a word. He had _hated_ t. He hadn't been expecting the little gooey things to get sucked up _into_ the straw, and he had nearly choked on it – much to Tifa's amusement. God, it was like inhaling a wad of snot.

Even now Tifa chuckled to herself, both at his expression and the memory it brought up, but managed to compose herself at Cloud's deepening frown. "Well, we can get sticky noodles instead," she suggested, but suddenly her expression lit up. "Or meat pies! The meat pies here aren't like home -" _home_ referring to Nibelheim, "- but they're pretty close. I get them when I'm homesick."

Cloud glanced at her, surprised. "You get homesick?"

Tifa blinked at him, but then her gaze dropped to her lap. "Sometimes," she admitted, and began playing with her hair. "You know, like our childhood. Hiking through the mountains with everyone. Playing in the streams. Seeing the sky every day. Eating… Eating Mom's cooking," she added with a small, hopeless shrug.

Cloud swallowed. "Tifa..."

"Sorry!" She quickly wiped her eyes. "I don't know why I'm getting so emotional." She lightly chuckled, but the sound was rough and dry. "I haven't thought about home in years, to be honest. I don't even remember the last time I _had_ a meat pie, but I guess… I guess since you're here now, I've been thinking about Nibelheim more. About home," she said, and shrugged again.

Cloud looked away. "Sorry."

"No! Don't apologize. Please don't." She placed a hand on his arm, and Cloud minutely tensed at the feather-light touch before relaxing a fraction. "No, I'm glad you're here. Truly."

Cloud glanced at her, his lower lip lifted in what could have very well been a pout. "You sure?"

"Yes," she promised him, and smile. Cloud continued to frown at her, unsure what to say or do or anything at all, when she spared him the decision and got to her feet. Stretching her hand out to him, she continued, "Ready to go?"

After a moment, Cloud hesitantly returned her smile with a faint one of his own. Taking her hand, and letting her help him back to his feet, he said, "Yeah."

With that, he swung his sword on his back so that it clicked with the magnetized holster. It felt heavy, but it was the good sort of weight. The comforting kind, and it made him feel – _actually_ feel – like he had been in SOLDIER once, even if he didn't remember it.

But for the first time since choosing his weapon, he thought that maybe – _just maybe –_ he would be able to remember something soon, as long as he kept practicing and keeping his new sword nearby. The thought almost made him smile, and he hoped that he would remember something cool. Like he had saved a village from a monster, maybe. Or if he had saved someone's life once.

"Coming?" Tifa called from in front of him. She had pushed open the chainlink fence that divided the Sector Seven slum proper from Scrap Boulevard, and was holding it open for him. Smiling at him. Waiting for him to catch up.

Cloud's lips twitched in a smile of his own. "Yeah," he replied, and hurried to join her.

Maybe - _just maybe_ \- he would remember being a real hero.

* * *

_Zack pounded against the mako pod's curved walls. "Stop!" he screamed, and thick bubbles tore through the mako on their way to the surface. They wove between his fingers as he pounded against his glass prison, got caught in his black hair, shuddered as they broke the surface with a face hiss. "Stop it!"_

_Hojo gave no indication that he heard, and even if he had, he probably didn't care. His attention was fully focused on Cloud, otherwise known as sample C… though there was very little of Zack's infantry buddy that he could recognize now._

_"Stop it!" Zack screamed again as Hojo leaned over his sample, over Cloud, and made various observations to his assistants. But Zack couldn't hear them; their words were warped through the glass and muted in the mako, and he had never been good at lipreading. But he could imagine. Yes, he could imagine, and his imagination ran wild._

_Though, after everything they had done to Cloud so far, he didn't have much_ left _to imagine._

_Zack's fingers curled against the glass. "Stop!"_

_Having seemingly reached a decision, Hojo instructed his assistants and they scattered through the room. They grabbed vials, syringes, sealed beakers full of chemicals and other substances, and eventually laid it out on a table beside Cloud, nice and orderly._

_Meanwhile, Cloud continued to lie on the metal table, limp, uncaring, unfeeling. Liquid mako, thick and green, dripped from his hair and slid down his pallid skin, and while his eyes were open, he stared and saw nothing. His sky-blue eyes burned, and not from adrenaline - as Zack was most familiar with – but burned green. Bright green, unnatural for even SOLDIERs, due to how much of it Cloud had been submerged in. And for what – to prepare his late-teen, still-developing body for whatever the hell Hojo was planning to do to him?_

_It pissed off Zack to no end. Not to mention that whatever_ treatment _Hojo performed was obviously_ _not doing Cloud any favors. The younger man's pale skin was blistered and chemically burned from the mako, his eyes were bloodshot from staring through it at all hours, his ribs and hip bones created prominent hills in his skin. Unsurprising – the few times they let Cloud out of the mako pod to feed him, Cloud had vomited it all up within minutes… if he was even conscious enough to attempt eating on his own. Otherwise, Zack would try to get him to eat something when they were placed in the same holding cell together. It was happening more often when Hojo learned that Zack would better cooperate if he was near Cloud, and Cloud was less likely to die if Zack cared directly for the younger blond, but... still. It wasn't enough._

_"Stop!" Zack screamed again, his voice a thick mass of bubbles and mako, as Hojo prepared a vial. "You'll kill him! Take me," he begged, and his hands curled against the glass. "Take me instead, don't hurt him. Please, don't hurt him, take me instead."_

_But Hojo didn't hear._

_He never heard…_

* * *

Zack jackknifed upright, chest heaving and a cold sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. For a moment he stared, stunned, unsure of what he was doing or _where_ it was… but then it all clicked a moment later. He was in Aerith's church. He had come here after running from his Turk-assigned mission early, but Aerith hadn't been here when he had arrived. So he had sat down on one of the pews to wait, but…

He ran a trembling hand through his hair, and exhaled a shuddering breath. _Must have fallen asleep,_ he realized dimly. He wished that he hadn't, and he squeezed his eyes against his dream, at the nauseating memories it dragged with it. Yet the images still flickered behind his eyes. The terror he had felt on behalf of Cloud still clawed at his chest, digging in, scraping against his nerves.

He hadn't had that dream in a while. Hadn't missed it either, and his stomach twisted against it. Slapping a hand against his mouth, he roughly exhaled, a hiss of emotion and anger and… _and_ _fucking Hojo,_ Zack thought darkly. The sea glass green of his own eyes flared hot. _Next time I see him, I'll -_

"Good morning, sleepy head."

Zack turned his head so quickly, he nearly gave himself whiplash… but then he laughed, a choked, nearly hysterical sound.

"Though, I guess I should be saying, _Good afternoon,"_ Aerith added with a faint smile. "It's pretty late."

"Aerith," Zack breathed. Relief made him lightheaded and he leaned back in the pew, nearly boneless, as another laugh clawed out of his throat. "God, you surprised me."

"Me, surprise a SOLDIER?" Aerith sat beside him, a basket of flowers on her lap, and flashed him a grin. "I must be pretty great."

Zack's expression softened. "You're pretty great," he agreed. Already he could feel his heart rate calm, his hands stop their trembling, as the nightmare receded to the dark corners of his mind. _Aerith is here._ She was here with him, and he was with her, and the glow in his eyes dimmed into something far gentler as he admired her. Admired her smile, her eyes, the way she looked at him, and slowly, he began to feel like the world was okay again. Yes, the horrors were still there. But they were now lingering shadows against Aerith's light, and she was bright enough to keep them away.

Well... at least for a little while.

"And I didn't say this before," he added, attempting to save face from his earlier shock, "but I noticed that you're still wearing that ribbon I bought you."

"Well of course. Aerith ran a hand to her bow, and her fingertips brushed against the ribbon's faint pink. "I promised you I'd wear it always, after all."

Zack swallowed. "I didn't realize it meant so much to you."

"It did." Aerith glanced at him, and meeting her gaze with his, smiled. "It still does." But then her smile slipped and Zack, suddenly alarmed, sat up a little straighter. But she only turned back to her flowers. Watched them wave and shiver in the slight breeze, and she said, "I'm worried about you, Zack."

Zack suddenly felt cold. Icy cold. Had he said something in his sleep? Had he scared her when he woke up? Anxiety rolled within him, but he managed a small, tight grin and said, "About me? Aerith, you don't have to worry about me," he assured. "I'm strong. I'm tough."

"You also talk in your sleep," Aerith murmured. She wouldn't meet his gaze as she continued, "You sounded pretty scared."

_Shit._

Zack could only stare. Stare and feel like he was dunked in a mako pod again, drowning against the thick liquid, and suddenly it was hard to breathe. He swallowed. He knew what was coming, knew what was coming as like he was standing on the railroad tracks watching the train getting closer, and just _knew_ that he wasn't quick enough to get out of the way.

So he just stood there and stared, preparing himself to get run over.

"Zack." Zack sucked in breath as Aerith turned to him, the humor gone from her eyes, having been replaced by something far deeper, far more tragic. She reached forward and placed a hand over his own. Her hand was so much smaller, Zack numbly noted, and she said, "What happened these past few years?" She bit her lip. "Where were you?"

Zack's eyes pricked with tears against his will, and he tore his gaze away… but not his hand. He kept his hand where it was, right beneath Aerith's warm, dirt-flecked palm. "You're not going to like it," he whispered.

Aerith's grip tightened on his hand, and she said, "That's okay. If you want to talk about it, I'm listening. Maybe you'll feel a bit better," she added with a small, lopsided smile. "I'm a good listener, you know." And when Zack didn't reply – didn't even turn to look at her – she continued, "You're not alone, Zack. You know that… right?"

Zack's faint breathes trembled between them, and yet still he would not look at her. Didn't want her to see how weak he was. How weak he could be. How different he was from how she remembered him, at how the past four, five years had damaged him so deeply. But damn, how she could drag out every jagged, broken, hurting piece of him out so easily. So _e_ _ffortlessly_.

Seeing that Zack was not going to speak, Aerith's gaze returned to her flowers. After a moment, she said, "You know, all these years, I had thought you had forgotten about me."

Zack turned to her, wide-eyed. "I... I _never_ forgot -"

Aerith smiled at him, and the words died in his throat. "I know that now," she murmured. She lightly squeezed his hand, and said again, "I know that now. But back then, it was hard to know what to think. I couldn't sense you anymore. Thinking that you were dead was far too painful to bear, so I… I preferred to think that you just… forgot. That you moved beyond my reach. After all, you were _perfect,"_ she added with a faint laugh. "A SOLDIER, traveling across the world, fighting monsters and saving people." She turned her smile to her flowers, but she wasn't look at them; she was looking beyond them, to somewhere only she could see, and her smile faded into something a little sadder. "Meanwhile," she continued, "I was just a young, inexperienced slum girl that was afraid of the sky. Not exactly comparable," she joked, but there was something sad in her voice. In her eyes.

And Zack stared at her, shocked. Nearly too shocked to speak, to find his voice again, but before his mind caught up he had enveloped her petite hands with his own. Aerith glanced at him, surprised, as he lifted his fingertips to his lips. Her fingertips were rough from tending the earth, to tending her flowers, but they were strong, and firm, and warm, and were currently holding onto all of the pieces of his fragmented heart.

He loved her hands. Her eyes. Her everything.

"The thought of meeting you again," Zack began softly, roughly, hoarsely, "kept me from losing all hope. And your little wish, that you wanted to spend more time with me, kept me alive. Honest," he said seriously at her small smile. "Honest. And when I was trapped in that… in that place, I would sometimes dream that I was _here_ instead of there. And they were the happiest dreams." His eyes watered, and mirrored Aerith's own misty, emerald eyes. "I wouldn't want to wake up. I didn't want to, I'd fight it, because if I woke up then I would wake up there instead of here. And I… I so badly wanted to imagine that _that place_ was the dream and _here_ was the reality. But I'd always wake up," he finished, his voice a breathless rush.

"Zack..."

"I was in a lab," Zack quickly continued. He had to speak quickly, had to spit everything out all at once, because if he didn't… if he didn't, he had no confidence that he would be brave enough to try again. That maybe he never would, and the words he wouldn't be able to say would rot inside of him. But he had to tell her. He owed her that, at least. "But not… not to work there, but because I was one of the experiments. Sample Z," he echoed, his voice hollow. "And Cloud was… Cloud was Sample C."

Aerith's lips formed a thin, white line as some of the mist gathered and trickled down her cheeks.

"Those were our names." Zack deflated. It was an effort to keep his head up, to keep his eyes open and lips movement, but he did it anyway. "Those were our names for four years."

"Oh, Zack..." Aerith pulled him into a hug, a tight hug, and Zack rested his forehead on her shoulder, unable to support himself up any longer. Unwilling to.

He thickly swallowed, and continued, his voice a mere whisper, "That's why I couldn't come visit. Because… Because they wouldn't let us leave. We had to escape, had to… had to get out of there."

"And you did."

"Yes." Zack leaned against her, supporting his weight with her own. "We did, but Cloud… Cloud was in a bad way. The things Hojo _did_ to him, Aerith, sometimes I -" Aerith's eyes widened at Hojo's name, but Zack didn't notice. His breath shuddered between them, a gasping inhale as his dream surged to the surface. "I _begged_ Hojo to use me instead. But he never did. Never did, and everyday I had to watch Cloud… Cloud slowly _die,_ day after day after day, until he couldn't even hold his head up or see anything or eat or -"

" _Shh_ , Zack." Aerith's hands moved against his back in small circles, and Zack sucked in breath as he realized that he had been rambling, that he had been losing himself in his spiraling thoughts, the dark memories that could oh so effortlessly pull him under.

But not all the way. No – Aerith was here to drag him back up, to keep him from drowning. He reached his arms around her and pulled her against him, as tightly as he dared to without hurting her.

He felt Aerith shakily inhale against him. "I'm so sorry, Zack," she whispered. "I had no idea."

Zack dryly chuckled, though the sound felt strange and unnatural and sharp in his throat. "Don't apologize," he murmured into her hair. "Please don't apologize. It's not your fault."

"I'm sorry just the same." She pulled away from him, just enough so that their eyes met. The emerald in her gaze shone bright with tears, some unshed, others trailing down her cheeks.

Zack lifted his finger against one, catching it, his heart breaking. "Please… Please don't cry. If you start crying..." He managed a thin, tight smile, one that had his eyes burning. "I'm gonna start to cry, too. And won't _that_ be pretty damn embarrassing."

Aerith laughed, breathless. "You're already crying."

Zack blinked, and something damp ran down his cheek. "Am not," he blatantly lied, and attempted another smile.

Aerith laughed again, and then she did the unthinkable.

She kissed him.

And Zack's eyes flew wide as her lips skirted his own. He felt a brush of skin, of heat, of softness, and then she pulled away - much to his disappointment - until she was blinking at him again. There was a flush to her cheeks, as if she was just as surprised as he was, but she recovered far more quickly than he could.

"We'll find Cloud," she told him. Her hands cupped his cheeks, and he could only stare, wordless. "We'll find Cloud, and Hojo won't find either of you. I won't let him," she stated matter-of-factly.

After a moment, Zack smiled a small, crooked smile. "You're gonna protect me?"

"That's right."

"Shouldn't it be the other way around? You know," he added, his smile brightening at their banter, "considering I'm the SOLDIER that fights monsters and saves people?"

Aerith's lips curved into a grin. "Nah."

"You mean, _hell yeah._ "

"Nah," Aerith said again, and then she was leaning away from him, her focus now shifting to her flowers. Zack released her from his tight embrace, but still felt strangely disappointed. The church felt colder without her pressed against him, and he felt himself crave her warmth, her support, her quiet strength. Her kiss.

"Feeling a little better?" Aerith asked.

Zack blinked. "Y – Yeah," he said, surprised. And he _did_ feel a bit better. A bit calmer, and he smiled at her – an honest, true smile. "Thank you."

Aerith's lips brushed against his forehead, warming him. "Of course, Zack."

He almost added that another kiss would make him feel a _whole_ lot better, but her attention had already shifted back to her flowers, so he kept his mouth shut. Instead he leaned forward on the pew, content to simply… watch her. To bask in her presence, at the comforting silence that anchored him.

"I'm going to the upper plate later," Aerith said, surprising him. "Sector Eight, I think."

"Upper plate?" Zack repeated, drawn out of his daze. "But aren't you afraid -"

"Of the sky?" Aerith finished for him, and shook her head. "No. I've worked hard to get used to it, you know. I'm strong and tough too."

Zack grinned. "I know."

"And plus, I feel like I should be there tonight." Her chin tilted upward as she glanced at the broken rafters above her, at the faint sunlight beyond that. "Like something _big_ might happen there, you know? And I... I have to be there for it."

Zack wasn't sure what she meant by that, but at this point, he wasn't questioning it. Sitting more upright, he asked, "Want me to come with?"

"Nah, I'll be okay. Also..." She glanced at him, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Aren't you supposed to be somewhere right now?"

Zack frowned at her, uncertain… but then his eyes flew wide. He had completely left the Turk intelligence outpost without saying a word to Reno or Rude - not that he could, as he no longer had a phone, but still. That hadn't been cool of him.

"Shit," he murmured, which had Aerith giggling.

"Shit indeed," came a voice behind him. Zack nearly jumped out of his skin, only to realize that it was only Tseng. Tseng, who was watching him with a vaguely annoyed, yet knowing, expression. "I had a feeling you might have come here, Fair."

Zack flashed Aerith an uneasy smile before returning his attention to Tseng. "Uh… you found me?"

Tseng only sighed in response, which had Aerith chuckling. Grinning to him, she said, "You're in trouble now, Zack."


	12. Fireflies and Gun Fights

Luckily, Zack hadn't been in nearly as much trouble as he had thought. Though he _had_ ditched Reno and Rude the day before, which admittedly wasn't very cool of him, Tseng had simply given him a box of pharmaceutical receipts and had told him to organize it before the day was over. While it was boring as hell, not to mention totally random, it wasn't overly difficult. All he had to do was categorize any receipts that mentioned _hydrogen peroxide,_ which was simple enough. The only real drawback was because of this little job of his, he wasn't allowed to leave the Turk headquarters until further notice.

Zack scowled as he briefly scanned another receipt, then sighed and set it in the trash pile.

 _Well... what Tseng didn't know wouldn't kill him,_ he decided. Besides, Tseng had no way of enforcing that little rule of his. The Turk simply didn't employ anyone strong enough to force a SOLDIER to stay put, a fact that had been proven when Cloud had... decided he didn't want to stay in the hospital anymore. Granted, Cloud had been no SOLDIER, but he _had_ been infused with mako. It basically amounted to the same thing.

A smile played on Zack's lips, small and bittersweet. Back when Cloud had been in the infantry, it had been his dream to join SOLDIER. It made Zack wonder what Cloud would think of himself now; if he was happy with the mako enhancements, or if he would throw it all away if given the chance.

 _I guess I'll ask when I find him again,_ Zack decided, and threw another receipt in the growing trash pile. He'd humor Tseng for now. He'd go through these stupid receipts and organize them, and he'd do a damn good job of it, too. But the moment he had the opportunity, he was leaving. Hojo was in Midgar, and that meant Cloud was in danger... and Tifa, if only by association.

 _Which reminds me._ He needed to go back to the church and speak to Aerith, too. Something she had said the day before had stuck with him. Had continued to ring in his ears like a song, one on constant repeat, until Zack was muttering it to himself as he half-assed his way through the box of receipts.

 _I'm going to the upper plate later,_ she had told him yesterday evening. _Sector Eight, I think._

But it was her next words that had struck him cold:

_Something big might happen there._

Zack pursed his lips. If anyone else had said something like that, he would have wished them a good time and would not have given it a second thought. But because _Aerith_ had said that – _his_ Aerith, who lately seemed to know more than she should, not to mention miraculously divining where Cloud had gone – he couldn't get it out of his head. She had originally planned to go yesterday night, but then had changed her mind. Now her plan was to leave for the upper Sector around midday today, and knowing her, she wouldn't head home until the sunset.

 _Or until the 'something big' had happened,_ Zack thought.

He unconsciously crushed a receipt in his hand as worry hissed through him. The ' _something big'_ sounded ominous, and the thought of Aerith being near any potential danger made him physically nauseous. That said, he also vividly remembered Aerith telling him that she could handle it, that she was strong, independent woman who could sell flowers on the upper sectors on her own, thank you very much. And it wasn't that he didn't believe her. Just the opposite, in fact; he trusted her judgment far more than he trusted his own at this point. It's just that far too much had happened to those close to him. He didn't want her to just _say_ that she would be safe.

He wanted to personally guarantee it.

Sighing, Zack glanced out the window, which he had opened earlier to let the stale city breeze through. _She'd probably get offended if I said that, though._ A gentle wind whispered across the room and ruffled the receipts stacks on the desk, eventually snagging one and sending it drifting to the ground. But he hardly noticed. He was far too busy looking at Midgar's hauntingly unfamiliar skyline, at its jagged edges, as his memories overlapped with the completed scenery before him. It still caught him off-guard just how much Midgar had changed these past four years.

 _Though,_ he thought, feeling strangely heavy, _compared to how much I_ _have_ _changed..._

Suddenly there was a knock on the door, one which had him dragging his attention away from the window... and his spiraling thoughts. "Come in," he said automatically, though there was no need. The door was already opening, and a familiar face framed by copper hair peaked inside... only to break out in a bright, quiet smile.

"Zack," Cissnei greeted as she eased the door closed behind her. She was wearing a blue sundress, a striking contrast from the usual black and white of the Turk uniform, which started him. She looked... pretty, but like how a rose was pretty - its petals soft despite its thorns. "I was hoping you'd be in here," she continued.

"Cissnei." Zack got to his feet, deciding then and there that Cissnei was far more important than a box full of receipts. "Long time no see."

She laughed, a faint sound. "It hasn't even been a week," she said as she leaned against the wall. "Though," she softly added, "you're looking far better than the last time I saw you."

Zack returned her smile, albeit hesitantly. "Yeah, thanks to you. Speaking of which, I haven't actually thanked you. For, you know…" He ran a hand through his black hair. "For getting Cloud and I out of there. If you hadn't found us…"

"If I hadn't found you, you and Cloud would have been fine." Cissnei's voice was absolute, and left no room for argument. "Maybe in a little rougher shaper, sure. But fine. You should give yourself more credit, Zack," she added at his following eye-roll. "Truly. What you did – escaping the lab, keeping Cloud alive for those ten months on the run, surviving the infantry ambush – was… well, impressive. Not many could have done it."

Zack fought down the warmth threatening to redden his cheeks. "When did you get so supportive?"

At that, Cissnei averted her gaze. If Zack didn't know her any better, he would have guessed that she was also blushing. "I've always been supportive."

"Really."

"Really." Her copper eyes met his once again, but now there was something a little more sad in them. "Also, speaking of which... I heard that Cloud left the hospital. I was sorry to hear that."

Zack's lips formed a thin, had line. _Left_ was certainly a delicate way to put it. Cloud had woken up from a mako-induced coma, panicked, and cracked three of Zack's ribs on his way out of the hospital. Zack's ribs had healed - healed strangely quickly, not that he was complaining - but his chest still ached. Ached that he had been too weak and surprised to stop Cloud from running away.

Zack sighed, and heavily sat down on the desk as a familiar weight descended down on him, chilling him, threatened to pull him to the floor. "Yeah, I'm sorry too," he finally said. "But I'll find him."

Cissnei's expression warmed. "I know you will."

"Also, Cissnei..." She glanced at him, eyebrow lifted in silent question, and Zack continued, "I'm not sure if you knew this, but yesterday I went with Reno and Rude on their mission."

"On their mission?" Cissnei echoed. The surprise in her voice was obvious. "To the pharmacy?"

 _Pharmacy?_ Zack frowned. "No, not a pharmacy… they dropped me off at some Turk information center in upper Sector Four. Wait." His eyes widened a fraction. "Is that why Tseng dropped off an entire box of pharmacy receipts? Because of Reno and Rude's mission?"

Cissnei was silent for a moment too long, and then she shrugged. "Perhaps," she replied offhandedly. It wasn't a direct answer, and it had Zack frowning. She was hiding something - he _knew_ it. "Anyway," she continued, changing the subject, "so Reno and Rude dropped you off at the information center. Why?"

"Well..." Zack tapped his foot on the floor, a nervous tic he didn't remember developing. "Tseng wanted me to review security footage, in the hopes that I would find Cloud."

Cissnei stood a little straighter. "Did you find him?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I found him." Memories of Cloud's green, slitted eyes flashed back in the forefront of his mind, and Zack's lips twitched into a smile. But there was no warmth behind it, no joy; it was a sharp, bitter thing, and his mood grew more bitter with it. "But..."

Cissnei frowned, a worried expression. "But?"

"But... But I also saw Hojo." There was a new edge to his tone that hadn't been there before, one that had Cissnei involuntarily tensing. "Hojo is in Shinra headquarters, right smack dab in the middle of the city. Practically right next to us." He pinned Cissnei with his eyes, and it brought him no comfort that she looked… _nervous._ "Did you know?" he demanded. "Did you know that he was here, practically right next door?"

Cissnei quietly exhaled, then met his gaze with her own. There was a surprising amount of strength there. Resolve, and she said, "I did."

_I did._

Zack roughly exhaled, and he had to clasp his hands together to keep them from shaking. But not from fear - from anger, an emotion he was becoming more and more familiar with. "You... You _knew_ what Hojo did to me. Did to Cloud. And you brought us back to _Midgar_?" Despite the bite in his tone, his voice remained steady. Almost calm, and for some reason, that made his words all the more striking. "Right _next to him_?"

A moment passed, heavy and full, and then another. Finally, Cissnei quietly said, "You were already on the way." She continued to stand rigidly against the wall, her cheerful sundress a harsh contrast to her steely, Turk-like expression. "You also needed immediate medical treatment, and the best – and closest – medical treatment available is here. Without it, we were afraid that you would die."

"But _Hojo_ is here," Zack pointed out. He almost added that Hojo finding him would be a special sort of death, but he swallowed his words at the last moment. He nearly choked on them.

"The Turks are here, too." Cissnei's lips curved into a frown. " _I'm_ here. Tseng is here, and we all want to protect you _and_ Cloud. Doesn't that count for anything?"

Zack scowled, his luminous gaze burning into the floor... but then he sighed, a harsh exhale, and impatiently ran a hand through his hair. "Yes," he finally admitted, though it seemed to pain him to say it. "Yes, it counts for something. But… But why didn't you tell me?" He lifted his head to meet her gaze directly, and his eyes burned with mako. "Why did you leave me to find out about it through security footage?"

To his surprise, Cissnei shifted her weight to her other foot, clearly fidgeting. "Because, to be frank," she finally said, "it never occurred to me."

"Never _occurred_ to you?" Zack expression was incredulous. "Are you serious?"

"It never occurred to me," Cissnei continued, her tone a little sharper, "because the mission was to bring you and Cloud here safely. The mission was a success, and I guess… I guess I didn't really think too much of what came after. I was just happy to see you alive." She seemed embarrassed by her admission, but continued regardless. "Besides, Tseng usually handles what happens after a mission. Not me."

Zack crossed his arms over his chest, still pissed, but it wasn't like he didn't understand her logic. Once upon the time, before everything went so horribly wrong, he hadn't thought much different. All he cared about was who to fight, who was the enemy, and somebody else always handled the rest. In fact, he had told Cloud as much back in Nibelheim.

But things were different now. He was less naive, for one. Less stupid about the world. Now he considered just about everyone an enemy, and knew that if he needed something done, then he had to rely on himself. It was a bitter lesson to learn after they had escaped the lab, but else could he do? He _had_ to take care of everything, because Cloud... well, Cloud couldn't. And whose fault was that?

 _Mine,_ his mind whispered. _Mine, mine, mine._ If Zack hadn't given that order... If he hadn't told Cloud to stop Sephiroth, someone he couldn't even stop as a SOLDIER... then maybe Cloud wouldn't be in this messed-up situation in the first place.

Not that there was anything he could do about it now - another bitter lesson he had learned.

"Fair enough," he finally said. Cissnei blinked, stunned by his admission, though her expression remained guarded - as if she was expecting him to berate her at any moment. And seeing her like that, Zack suddenly felt... tired. Exhausted even, and he tore his gaze back out the window. To the hazy, polluted sky above Midgar's jagged cityscape. "Anyway," he continued, his tone flat, "I can't imagine that you only dropped by to keep me company during Tseng's stupid job."

"Actually, I did," Cissnei replied, surprising him. "I hadn't been able to visit you since I picked you up."

"Oh." Zack wasn't exactly sure what to say to that, so he switched tactics. "Well, you look nice," he said. "Off on a date somewhere?"

Cissnei was so taken aback, that she had actually blinked at him. But she was a Turk, and she quickly regathered her wits. "Oh, this?" she chuckled, smoothing out her sundress. "No. It was for a mission, actually."

Zack arched a dark eyebrow. "A mission _?_ " _Wearing **that**?_

"Yes." Cissnei grinned at him a little, as if there was a joke somewhere. "And I can't tell you the details, as you are a _contractor_ -"

Zack rolled his eyes.

"- but," she continued, "I will say that most Turk missions are actually rather boring. Not all of them involve helicopters or guns, you know."

"Could have fooled me."

Cissnei smile softened. "I have a suspicion that nothing much fools you anymore, Zack."

Zack frowned at her. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." Her warmth was back, as was her steady continence, and she continued, "Anyway, I should get going. Tseng strictly ordered everyone not to disturb you, as apparently you had caused some trouble yesterday and have to get some paperwork done?"

Zack's frown deepened, and he glanced at the box of receipts before turning back to her. "Yeah, whatever. Tell him that this is a waste of time and I should be out there looking for Cloud."

"You tell him," Cissnei said as she reached for the door handle. "I'm sure he'll be stopping by soon, anyway."

Zack sighed. That was _exactly_ what he needed... _Not._ "Doesn't he have anything better to do?"

Cissnei looked thoughtful for a moment. "Probably a lot of things," she decided, then pushed open the door. The iridescent lights from the hallway spilled into the room, and she took a step towards it… only to pause and glance back at him, another small smile on her lips. "See you around, Zack."

Zack raised an eyebrow at her almost wistful tone, but made no comment on it. "See you around, Cissnei," he replied.

She smiled once again, then dropped her gaze before letting the door close behind her.

Zack frowned at the door for a moment longer, then scratched the back of his neck as he sat back down at the desk. _Weird._

* * *

The streetlights flickered to life on top of the Sector Eight plate as Aerith stepped beneath them, her brown hair stained gold from their soft glow. Something urged her onward, a tug of sorts, and her bright eyes wandered the nearby buildings looking for its source. She _knew_ that she was getting closer... but to what? What was waiting for her tonight?

_Well, I guess I'll just have to wait and see._

Quietly inhaling, she dragged her gaze upward, higher and higher, until she could see the open sky above her. Despite the buildings pressing against her, she felt a little flutter of anxiety when she blinked at the hazy clouds. There were no stars – there were never stars, as Midgar was far too bright and the air too choked with pollution to see them – but Aerith was grateful for it, though she knew she shouldn't be. She enjoyed _pictures_ of stars. Enjoyed how dazzling they looked, how ethereal, when pasted on a small, blank canvas. Not so much when they yawned above her, with their faint, flickering lights endless and eternal and hauntingly beautiful.

She sighed, a harsh sound, and dropped her gaze. Oh, _stop being silly,_ she told herself as she continued through the alley. _Zack isn't afraid of the sky, and neither should I._ Rationally, she knew that the sky was nothing to be afraid of. It wasn't like the sky could grab her and steal her away after all, but... still. Seeing it so open above her made her feel... uneasy. As strange as it was, she preferred the steel sky - the sky of the slums. The steel sky was cold and unfeeling and not beautiful at all, but it was _her_ sky. It was familiar, and it was easy to understand. It had a clear beginning and end. A finality that the sky didn't possess.

And just like that, she found herself missing Zack's company. He seemed to always know just what to say to put her at ease, and though he continued to tell her how different he was from her memories, she secretly thought that he hadn't changed that much. Sure, he was a little more damaged. A little more broken, but not in pieces. Just a little cracked was all, but the core of him - the part of Zack that she had fallen in love with - was still there. In fact, lately it seemed to shine all the brighter. His hardships he had gone through had only made him kinder, only made his smiles that much more special, that much warmer, and she loved seeing them.

She loved seeing _him,_ and she wished that he was here with her now.

A small smile played on her lips. But that would have been a selfish wish of hers, now wouldn't it? If Hojo was here in Midgar, then he would most likely be at the Shinra headquarters on the upper plates - not far from where she was now, in fact. So she _couldn't_ have invited Zack to come with her. Not in good conscious at least. And besides, hadn't she promised to protect him this time around? Hadn't she promised that she would take care of him?

She intended to make good on that promise.

 _Besides, I can always visit him when I'm done here,_ she decided. Her gaze dropped to her basket of flowers, hanging on her elbow. _And maybe, if the flowers sell well, I can bring him a cup of coffee. Or maybe he would like tea more? Or chocolate?_ She frowned, realizing that she actually didn't know _what_ Zack's favorite drink was. Every time he had visited back in the day, he had either brought food for them both or they simply enjoyed each others company in the church. They had never really gone out to eat. Had never gone out for a drink.

She needed to amend that. Maybe take him somewhere special, somewhere she knew he would like. _Maybe a garden?_ she thought, but immediately shook her head. A garden was something _she_ would like, and besides, the only gardens she knew of were either at the church and at her house. _Well, he likes eating, so..._ Maybe she could be a little more cliche, and they could just go out to dinner? _That may be fun,_ she decided, and a smile played on her lips. Zack had clearly had a rough time of it, and she knew he hadn't told her everything about what happened while he was gone, but a warm meal had never hurt anyone. Granted, she didn't have too much money so they couldn't go anywhere fancy, but...

But her thoughts fizzled when she suddenly felt a definite tug, a faint pull that dragged her eyes downward until her gaze rested on a broken pipe. The pipe had been snaking along the wall before it had cracked, and faint green light spilled out of the fracture. The light was so thick that some bubbled off and dissipated into the air like fireflies.

Aerith knelt down in front of it, her delicate brow furrowed, all thoughts of going on a date pushed to the back of her mind. _Mako energy,_ she realized as she hovered her hand over the cold glow. This broken pipe was filled with the Lifestream, though refined and concentrated into raw energy, and - without really knowing why - she clasped her hands in front of it and prayed. Prayed for Zack, that his raw wounds would heal and he would be truly happy again. Prayed for Cloud, that Zack would be able to find him before his mako addiction worsened. Prayed that Cloud would be safe in the meantime, and that he had found his friend.

And then she prayed for herself. That, no matter what happened, she would be strong enough and brave enough to pull both of them through whatever the Planet had in store for them.

Her breath trembled out of her when she finally blinked open her eyes again. Blinked, as if seeing the broken mako pipe for the first time, when she felt another tug that had her turning upward to the Sector One reactor. It loomed over Sector Eight and the sight of it made it uneasy, and secretly she thought that the reactor was far scarier than the sky could ever be. Its thick metal base tapered into a yawning opening, one that spewed green mako like liquid fire. The blast was so powerful that it burned a hole through the perpetual gray haze that covered the city, and Aerith dropped her gaze before getting to her feet.

 _Something's going to happen tonight,_ she reminded herself as she exited the alley and merged with the rest of the people. _Something big._

Someone suddenly bumped into her, scattering her flowers, but she hardly noticed. She only stooped down and began picking them up, her thoughts spiraling in a different direction. A scarier direction. The Planet was shifting beneath her, but in equal parts excitement and terror. She felt its tremble through her slim body and into her bones, and she squeezed her eyes shut against it.

Only to open them again and watch someone step on one of her small, delicate, fragile flowers, one that she hadn't had the chance to pick up yet. The man's shoe had crushed the petals and broke the stem, and Aerith glared at his departing back before she gently picked up the crushed flower.

Her lips twitched in a scowl as the poor thing drooped in her fingers.

"Shit."

* * *

The wind whipped at Cloud's face and tussled his hair as the train screeched down the tracks, and he grit his teeth against the piercing noise - and his lurching stomach. He had forgotten how much he had hated trains, but now it was all it could think of as the train rattled to a sickening stop in front of the Sector One station. It was a small blessing that the station was empty. All of the daily commuters must have gone home for the day, and now all that remained were a few Shinra infantrymen. Not that Cloud was paying much attention to them. He was far too busy trying to control his stomach, which seemed intent to performing nauseating backflips.

It didn't help that the air smelled pungently of mako. The sharply sweet, metallic scent was potent enough to make him lightheaded, and he swallowed a small groan. It didn't come as a surprise, though. The massive reactor practically loomed over the station, and if Cloud had lifted his head, he would have been able to see the eerie green glow of burning mako spilling into the sky.

But Cloud did not lift his head. He only pinned his gaze on his hands, splayed against the train car's metal roof, and tried to control his breathing. His stomach seemed to be squeezing itself into knots, and it took nearly all of his concentration not to be sick right then and there. A part of him almost wanted to, that maybe he would feel a little bit better after expelling whatever he ate that day, but at the same time...

 _SOLDIERs do_ not _get motion sickness,_ he told himself, his mental voice firm. And sure, maybe he didn't remember being a part of SOLDIER, but that didn't seem to be very important right then. He was supposed to be stronger than this. And besides, hadn't he promised Tifa that he would be okay? That he could do this job, that he could handle it, and that he would meet her when it was over?

 _Easy to make that promise,_ he thought darkly. He hadn't even _started_ Barret's dumb job, and he was already borderline incapacitated.

Though, as the seconds continued to beat on, he slowly began to feel a little bit better. Or at least, the ground didn't seem to roll as much now, and he didn't feel like he was going to _immediately_ puke his guts out. He was well enough to hear Biggs grab a Shinra infantryman, which was quickly followed by Jessie's loud shout as she kicked the man in the gut and render him unconscious. A harsh slap followed. A high-five.

Then a loud, disappointed sigh. "Get down here, merc," Barret called up to him.

Cloud scowled and, swallowing his nausea, sharply inhaled before jumping off the train car. The jump was far more elegant and graceful than any un-enhanced human could pull off, something that he was minutely grateful as he gracefully landed in a crouch. When the world stopped spinning, he slowly stood and re-equipped his gunblade to his magnetic holster. He was all too aware of Barret staring at him, of the dark look in his eyes, the hard set to his jaw, the hard tension of his shoulders.

It was a difficult thing to ignore, and finally Cloud turned his scowl to him and deadpanned, " _What_."

Barret sniffed. "You look like shit," he stated.

Irritation spiked through Cloud. He tried to remind himself that this was beneath him, that Barret was stupid and picking fights would only make his life harder, but he couldn't stop himself from deadpanning, "Likewise." With that, he turned on his heel and following Biggs, Jessie, and Wedge further down the train station.

Barret made a noise low in his throat and muttered, "Damn punk." He said it under his breath, far too low that the ordinary human would hear, but Cloud was no ordinary human. His sensitive hearing picked it up immediately, and it was only his paper-thin self control that stopped him from sharply retorting.

But then his attention was snagged by something else. Footsteps, coming from an alleyway to the left, and his head snapped towards it as he froze in place.

" _Goddamn_ ," Barret hissed as he nearly ran right into Cloud. He stumbled backward, cursing. "What the _hell_ are you -" But the words died in his throat as Cloud reached back for his gunblade, and Barret's gaze swiveled in the direction that Cloud was staring. "Well, shit."

" _Drop your weapons!"_ shouted a voice in the dark. The tip of a rifle poked out of the gloom moments after, followed by a near-panicked infantryman. The three red lights on his helmet bobbed as he ran and continued, _"Identify yourself!"_

Cloud tensed. He knew that the mako in his eyes was flaring, that the adrenaline pumping fire in his veins had set it afire, but he immediately noticed that the green tinge to the world seemed different than usual. More saturated, a little sharper and pronounced, but he had no time to think about it, no time to worry, as his attention was split as two more infantrymen ran out of the alley.

Barret cursed again, colorful and imaginative, and Cloud wordlessly agreed. He took a step forward, his nausea forgotten, his grip like iron on his sword...

… only for one of the back guards to yelp in fear and, before the team's leader could say a word, fire his rifle.

Cloud blinked, and time seemed to slow. The world shifted into more dramatic shades of green as his eyes traced the bullet that spiralled towards the dead center of his chest. Watched the neon lights of the station flicker across the small imperfections of the bullet, at the creases along its metal and the small serial number engraved on its side, and he simply... stepped to the side.

The bullet slammed into the train car, hard enough to dent the metal.

Cloud's eyes widened a fraction as he flicked his gaze behind him, too stunned to realize that he had just turned his back to the enemy. _Did I just dodge that?_ His blood sang beneath his skin in response, and he realized that he must have. But... _But that was impossible,_ he thought, blinking. He shouldn't have been able to dodge that. People didn't just dodge bullets, and he _knew_ that he should have been hit... or worse.

But he hadn't been.

He, by some miracle of skill and luck, had dodged it.

"Holy fuck," whispered one of the infantryman.

Cloud slowly lowered his gaze back to his gunblade, then returned it to the three guards. All three were pointing their rifles at him, the three tips trembling between them, but none dared to fire. He could _hear_ their heartbeat, could hear the rapid staccato of their panicked hearts pound through his body and set his nerves on fire.

 _Something is wrong with me,_ he thought, but then immediately changed his mind. No – _nothing_ was wrong with him. He felt the opposite of wrong. In fact, everything felt shockingly, strikingly _right,_ and his lips twitched into a brittle smile. The infantry shrank back into the alley, their guns trembling in their small hands, and the guards looked so… so _weak._ So _little,_ so _insignificant,_ and it made him wonder…

_Had I looked like that, once?_

But the next moment Cloud decided that he didn't particularly care, and he snapped forward. He was vaguely aware that the lead infantryman screamed before he began to shoot, a rapid pulsing of light and raining metal, but Cloud simply ducked beneath it all. He could _see_ every bullet, could see the muscles in the man's finger twitch before firing again, and he cut through the guard as easily as he did the wererats. _Easier,_ even. His blade went straight through the thin armor they wore, and he wasn't even _trying._

Something hot and sticky splattered his clothes and the ground, but it hardly registered in Cloud's mind as he took a step closer to the remaining two guards. One whimpered and pulled the trigger, but only a harsh clicking sound reverberated through the air. It was a sound that Cloud was well acquainted with, and judging by the horrified look on the guard's face, he was, too.

_Gun's jammed._

And Cloud darted forward, his mind a tangle of emotions and thoughts and adrenaline and nothing at all. He moved forward faster than the eye could follow, and soon the guard's blood was similarly splattered against the ground. But Cloud had no time to pause, no time to take a breath, because the third screamed and opened fire as well. Cloud watched bullets speed towards him and, before he realized what he was doing, he swept his blade up and cut through the nearest bullet. It neatly split in two; one half slammed into the brick wall behind him, the other ricocheted off of a street lamp. In a blink Cloud then deflected the second bullet, dodged the third, and with his next slash, he cut right through the man's chest.

The guard gurgled as he collapsed to his knees, and whispered a name before falling heavily forward and going deathly, fatally still.

Cloud stood in the alleyway, breathing hard, the world little more than a pulsing green flicker around him. His held his gunblade so tightly that the hilt was cutting into his palm, even through the leather gloves, to the point where it bruised the skin. But he didn't notice. His mind hummed as he continued to stand, silent and still, as the three infantryman's bodies disintegrated into the Lifestream. Green sparks flickered into the air like moths, like fireflies, as they slowly made their way to the polluted sky above them. Cloud slowly lifted his head to watch them go, and their gentle light caressed his face before fading away entirely.

His chest ached.

His hand lifted, and his fingers knotted in the knitted fabric above his thudding, throbbing heart. There was a pain there, one nearly as striking as the throb beginning to blossom between his eyes. It was the infantryman that had taken the blow to the chest. It had been the infantrymen that he had cut down. The infantrymen who had faded and died.

So why did he feel the pain instead? And why the hell did it hurt so _bad?_

He inhaled a shaky breath. Truth be told, he hadn't _wanted_ to kill the infantrymen. He hadn't meant to, but everything happened so fast, and they were shooting him, and his body had reacted without thinking, like it didn't even really belong to him anymore, and... _and...!_

"SOLDIER-boy!" Barret's voice, deep yet shrill at the same time, snapped Cloud at whatever thoughts his mind began to spiral down. His head snapped to the mouth of the alley, his eyes luminous and wide. "If yer done, then get yer ass over here! We're leaving!"

_Leaving._

That word cut through the fog swirling in his head. They were leaving, and he had to follow. He had a promise to keep.

His legs began to move before he was consciously aware of it, and then he was running to catch up. It occurred to him on his way to the rest of the team that his sword had been cleaned of blood, as had his clothes - maybe because it had faded into the Lifestream, too? _Not that it mattered,_ he numbly thought. Still, Cloud was grateful for it as he vaulted over the station's guardrails. Barret was waiting for him just beyond, and the large man scowled at him as Cloud slowed his pace.

"I thought you looked like shit before," Barret said by way of greeting, "but you got me proved wrong."

Cloud pinned him with a harsh glare before pushing past him. "Shut up."

Barret's scowl deepened. "Prickly asshole," he muttered, and opened his mouth to say more, but was cut off by a sudden shout.

_"Don't move!"_

Cloud heard the all-too familiar click of a rifle's safety being disengaged, and his eyes flared a startling shade as he turned to the next infantry unit. This unit was smaller, this time comprised of only two guards instead of three, and were equipped with the same weapons and armor.

Barret shouted a curse and lifted his gun, but Cloud was already moving. He had to take them out before they began _shooting_ at him again, because if they started shooting… he wasn't sure what he would do to make them stop.

So he became the wind, little more than a dark blur against the ground. His metal blade sang through the air as he slammed its dull edge into the nearest guard. The man screamed as he hit the ground, then slumped into unconsciousness as Cloud landed a heavy blow to the back of his head.

The second infantryman lifted his rifle, but Cloud had already lifted his gunsword to the man's shoulder and pulled the trigger before the guard could even aim.

And _missed_.

The bullet cut a red line against the man's exposed cheek before slamming into the wall behind him. Bits of tile rained to the floor as infantryman thickly swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing, before he dared to glance behind him. At the spiderwebbing cracks in the wall, its epicenter broken and cracked. A whimper clawed out of his throat and his legs began to tremble, gently at first, but then began to shake so strongly that he fell onto his knees.

Cloud lowered his weapon, dazed - had he actually missed? But reality of the situation came flooding back to him, and he heard himself say, "Don't get back up."

The infantryman glanced at him and nodded, a faint jerk to the head. He had dropped his rifle on the ground, and made no move to pick it up again.

Barret shot Cloud a long, unreadable look. "Not gonna kill him?" he asked. The man made a low, keening sound.

Cloud pressed his lips into a thin line before turning away. "No," he stated as he followed Biggs deeper into the station.

"Hmm." Barret made another noise, one that Cloud didn't even bother deciphering, before his footsteps began to echo off the walls.

Meanwhile, Cloud's mind was reeling. He had missed his shot. _Missed._ And not on purpose, either. He had aimed for the man's shoulder, meaning to at least make the infantryman drop his weapon without killing him, but had nearly shot his head off instead. _How?_ It didn't make sense. His gaze dropped to his gloves, as if they were to blame, but they seemed normal enough. He also knew that it couldn't have been his gunsword, as he had specifically cleaned it in preparation for today's mission. Which meant that he hadn't missed due to faulty equipment or lack of skill.

He wasn't sure _what_ to make of that. But he could worry about it later; right now, he needed to focus.

Advertisements for hair tonic, perfume, and Banora White juice were a blur as the team headed up the stairwell and made it to the second story of the train station. The second story looked much like the first; rows and rows of benches occupied the space, while the occasional vending machine lined the wall. Thankfully the waiting room was empty, but that wasn't surprising of itself. As this station was part of the industrial line, and not the residential line, then only workers would be using it to commute. It was empty because the workday was over. Everyone had gone home.

Small blessings, because if they had been here when they blew up the reactor…

Cloud impatiently pushed his choppy bangs out of his eyes, at the sweat beading on his brow. _How much further is this stupid reactor, anyway?_

Suddenly more footsteps echoed down the hall. Cloud heard it before Barret, and his gaze snapped to the right just as someone shouted, _"Hey! You're not supposed to be here!"_

Barret skidded to a stop. "Shit!" he cursed as he lifted his gunarm. The metal within it began to grind together, a heavy whir that lifted the small hairs on Cloud's neck. "These Shinra assholes are _everywhere._ "

Cloud reached a hand forward. "Wait -" he began, but his voice was drowned out by the harsh sound of popping gunshots. Cloud flinched against the sound, as well as the piercing screams of the infantrymen that immediately followed.

Then, silence. Silence only punctuated by the faint hisses of bodies returning to the Lifestream. Cloud stared as the last guard vanished, the man's small body disintegrating with a faint, flickering whisper. Dead - just like that. The green fireflies trickled to the ceiling only to fade into the iridescent lights, and Cloud stared as the last faint light faded away. They hadn't even stood a chance.

"They knew what they were signin' up for when they decided to work fo' Shinra." Barret's deep voice pulled Cloud back to the present, and he found himself blinking at the ceiling. "Now c'mon," Barret continued, standing beside him. "Stop starin' into space and get your spiky ass over here."

That dragged a reaction out of him, and he said, "Don't order me around."

" _Excuse_ me?" Barret abruptly stopped walking and whirled, piercing Cloud with a hard look. "Listen 'ere, Stamp. And listen damn well. Don't go thinkin' that you're gonna get any special treatment just because you're Tifa's friend, you hear me? I'm _paying_ you to order you around," he finished. "And don't you forget it."

Cloud couldn't think of a retort. He only glowered, his finger's twitching against his gunblade's hilt, before he huffed - a rough, raw sound - and tore his gaze away to stalk deeper into the station. Barret had a point; it was borderline painful to admit it, but he _was_ paying Cloud to be here. This was a job. A business transaction. And being Tifa's friend had nothing to do with it.

That thought firmly planted in his mind, planted so deeply that not even the swirling fog in his head could touch it, he continued until he joined the rest of the team.

While he and Barret had been fighting the infantry, Biggs, Jessie, and Wedge had used their distraction to sneak to the very back at the station. There, a thick, metal door divided the station for the industrial complex behind it. According to Biggs, the industrial complex led directly to Mako Reactor One.

The industrial complex would also be extremely well guarded... _Not that it mattered,_ Cloud thought darkly. He was ready – or at least, he tried to convince himself he was – and moved to lean against a supporting column, quiet and indifferent to the rest of the team. Jessie was crouched in front of a heavy door and fiddling with something, while Biggs was kneeling on the ground right beside her. They were in the middle of a hushed conversation, one that Cloud shouldn't have been able to hear... if he hadn't been enhanced. As it was, he heard their faint words as clearly as if they were speaking right beside him.

And honestly, he really wished he couldn't.

 _"So,"_ Jessie was murmuring to Biggs. _"Is Cloud one of us now? SOLDIER-boy's got balls,"_ she added, which nearly had Cloud flushing. _"Did you see him fighting earlier? Shit, he's fast."_

 _"Yeah, I saw."_ Biggs voice was hardly a whisper as he handed Jessie something - a small red wire. _"But he ain't a SOLDIER anymore. Though at least he's a professional,"_ he quietly added, and shot Jessie a half-smile. _"You know, unlike the rest of us. To be honest,_ _I'm glad to have him."_

Cloud crossed his arms over his chest, looking distinctly uncomfortable - much to Barret's confusion, who couldn't hear his teammates' conversation. Wedge, who had been standing on alert behind Jessie, noticed Cloud's glower and shot him a brief smile and a thumbs up.

"So, you sticking around?" Wedge asked after he moved closer.

Cloud looked away. "No," he deadpanned. "I'm only here because Tifa asked."

Wedge's smile slipped a bit. "Oh. Okay."

"Yeah, we know," Barret said, shifting his weight to his other foot. "Good riddance, too. We don't need someone with such a bad attitude. It's a wonder that you and Tifa are even friends to begin with."

Cloud shot Barret a look that could have dried paint. "I don't want to hear that coming from you."

Barret's jaw dropped. "What did you say, asshole?"

Cloud didn't reply; he only crossed his arms over his chest, and glared holes into the floor.

From beside the door, Cloud heard Biggs whisper to Jessie, _"He's a real joy to work with, though."_

 _"Real joy to look at, too,"_ Jessie murmured back, grinning.

Cloud wanted to sink into the wall. Should he just tell them that he could hear them? Or should he just keep pretending?

"Hey!" Barret suddenly shouted, and his loud voice was such a contrast by Jessie and Biggs that it had Cloud wincing. "What the hell is takin' so long?"

"Just some minor adjustments," Jessie seamlessly replied. "Don't want the bomb too strong, you know."

Cloud paused.

_Bomb?_

But Barret didn't seem surprised in the slightest, and only leaned back against the wall. "Jus' hurry it up," he grumbled. "We're sittin' ducks out here, you know."

"We're going as fast as we can," Biggs replied, and lightly scowled at Jessie.

"I'm hurrying!" Jessie's tone was indignant as she continued to fuss with the bomb.

"So, Cloud..." Cloud nearly jumped at Wedge's loud voice beside him. Wedge had once again moved closer to Cloud's side, and Cloud immediately noticed that Wedge was anxiously fiddling with the gun he held. He wasn't sure if he liked that - nervous fiddling with a loaded gun. "Like, nobody would do something this crazy just because someone asked them too," Wedge began.

Cloud felt a tic work in his jaw. _Not this shit again._

"Like, c'mon." Wedge shot him an imploring look, one that had Cloud frowning. "They might not think you're a true believer, that you don't care about the planet, but do you know what I think?" Wedge took a step closer, and Cloud suddenly felt claustrophobic. "I think -"

Cloud took a step away. "Not interested."

Wedge visibly deflated in front of him.

"Got it!" Jessie suddenly shouted, and jumped to her feet, Biggs right after her. The two of them hurried a safe distance from the door. "Everyone, get out of the way!" Hearing the implicated warning in her tone, the rest of the team quickly joined her and Biggs as she began her countdown. "Three. Two. One -"

She clicked the remote in her hand, and a small explosion took out the locking mechanism of the door. Cloud instinctively lifted his arm to protect his eyes as smoke pillowed the air and metal pinged against the concrete.

Jessie happily sighed. "I love that sound," she hummed as she practically danced forward. Biggs chuckled as he followed, clearly just as pleased by the explosion as well, and the two of them pushed open the door once they decided it was safe to do so.

Wedge followed them out the door, his disappointment in Cloud eclipsed by their small success. "Nice," he murmured as he stepped over the mangled lock.

Cloud sighed, his headache a steady throb between his eyes, and made a move to follow… only for Barret to stop him. Avalanche's leader slapped a firm hand on his shoulder, and then pinned Cloud down with a hard look when Cloud turned to glare at him. "You better be worth Tifa's faith in you, SOLDIER-boy." Cloud's jaw clenched as Barret's expression darkened further. "Every damn ounce."

Anger flared through Cloud, hot and sudden. Pushing Barret's hand off of his shoulder, he growled, "I am. Don't touch me."

Barret scoffed, but made no retort as Cloud pointedly turned and left.

The cool night air brushed against Cloud's skin as he stepped outside of the station. The industrial area was impressive as it was large. Massive pipes, undoubted filled with raw mako, snaked from one warehouse to the next. Metal beams were woven between some of the warehouse rooftops for added support, but Cloud ignored those in favor of the guards patrolling the grounds below.

He hunkered down behind a railing, trying and failing to ignore the potent, acidic scent of mako, and the rest of the team followed his example. Though it was shockingly dark despite the faint streetlights flickering below them, his eyes had no problem picking out the small infantry team standing guard outside the largest warehouse. The team was made of three guards and a canine unit, a hairless, mako-mutated guard dog that was known for both their loyalty and their ferocity.

Jessie swallowed thickly at his side. "I hate dogs," she whispered. "A wild pack chased me when I was a kid, and they've scared the hell out of me ever since."

Her voice, little more than a whisper, echoed within Cloud's ears, and he shot her a withering glance and lifted a finger against his lips – the universal sign to shut up. Jessie quickly got the message and jerked her head in a nod… but it was too late. The Shinra mutt cocked its head below them, and the tail-like appendage on the base of its skull twitched in anticipation.

Cloud's eyes narrowed. _Shit._

"Wait here," he mouthed.

Wedge's eyes widened a fraction, and he shook his head _no._ Jessie and Biggs wore the same worried expression, but it was Barret who – unsurprisingly – just nodded. _Just hurry the hell up,_ Barret's expression seemed to say.

And Cloud got the message. With a sharp inhale, one that had the Shinra mutt tensing beneath the railing, he launched himself over the guardrail.

One of the guard's jerked his head up. _"What the -"_ he began, but Cloud shot forward and kicked him hard in the chest, knocking the wind out of him, before slamming an elbow into the back of his neck. The infantryman was unconscious before he hit the ground.

"Holy crap!" one of the infantrymen shouted, and lifted his rifle - but Cloud had already moved, his body a darker blur in the shadows and the guard dog, who had already lunged forward the moment it got Cloud's scent, opened its mouth in a wide, brutal snarl. Its sharp canines glinted beneath the flat warehouse lighting and Cloud lifted his gunblade and shot once. Twice. Three times, and finally the dog hit the ground and skidded against his feet, dead.

The sight twisted something within Cloud – he liked dogs – but a bullet whizzing past his face snapped him out of his sudden melancholy. " _Shit_ ," he hissed as blood beaded from the wound, and he slashed at the second bullet that had been streaking towards him. He could hear Jessie's sharp intake of breath as his blade slapped the bullet into the ground, then he flicked his wrist and cut through another in a wild, deadly dance that had him slowly making his way to the infantryman.

Cloud figured that he'd run out of bullets eventually, a notion that proved true once the sharp ring of bullets was replaced by the clicking of a dead trigger. _"Fuck,"_ the guard hissed, and he reached behind him to look for a spare cartridge.

"That's my line," Cloud scowled as blood dripped down his cheek. The man lifted his head, his lips pulled back in a grimace, before Cloud darted forward and knocked him unconscious as well. Even so, he didn't take his eyes off of the man until well after a couple seconds had passed, long enough for the dead Shinra mutt to dissipate into the Lifestream.

Cloud's breathing was even, but his heart rattled in his chest. He had been lucky the guard had been shaking too badly to aim properly, because just a few centimeters to the left… Cloud lifted his hand against his cheek, attempting to wipe it of blood but likely only smearing it.

The Shinra mutt wouldn't have been the only thing joining the Lifestream.

"That was _awesome,"_ Wedge grinned as he joined Cloud below. "You knocked them all out like… like _instantly,_ dude."

Cloud turned to face him. "It was nothing," he said, but Wedge had suddenly gone pale.

"Shit, bro," Wedge breathed. "Your face."

Cloud blinked, then glanced at his glove – at the bright red smearing the leather. "It looks worse than it is," he finally said. Face wounds tended to bleed a lot, and besides… "It's nearly healed already." In fact, it was healing so quickly that it almost worried him. He could feel the skin _itching_ as it stitched itself back together.

Biggs leaned a little closer to him, which had Cloud scowling and stepping away. He didn't like that look - like he was being studied. "Do all SOLDIERs heal as quickly as you?"

Cloud was thankfully spared having to answer as Barret loudly sighed behind them. "For cryin' out… Leave SOLDIER-boy alone," he barked as he joined them. "Biggs, don't you gotta job to do?" He gestured vaguely at the warehouse door, which looked as if it had been locked shut. Not a manual lock either, like the train station's lock that Jessie had blown up, but a digital one.

"Right. Sorry." Biggs shot Barret an apologetic smile, then quickly made his way to the computer terminal beside the door. Within moments he had activated the screen and, after a slight pause, began to quickly type something out.

"Don't you worry," Jessie said, moving to stand closer to Cloud. She winced a bit when she saw his cheek, but seemed to be doing her best not to notice it. "Biggs is a genius at this computer stuff. He'll have that door open in no time."

Cloud shot her a look, then scowled at looked away. "Wasn't worried."

"Also, can you, like, clean your face a little?" Jessie was frowning at him, the same frown Tifa wore when he did something strange and she got worried. It had Cloud frowning, too. "Like, it looks very badass and cool and all, but..." She glanced at the cut, winced a bit, and her gaze jumped back to his eyes. "Well… it looks painful, to be honest."

Cloud blinked. "Oh. Um, yeah. Sorry." He quickly lifted a hand and tried to wipe some more off, and was pleasantly surprised to note that the faint cut didn't sting at all anymore. In fact, if he lightly pressed against it, he realized that it had completely healed.

Suddenly, Jessie harshly sighed beside him, and he turned to her in confusion. "No, you're just… smearing it… Oh my god. Here." Jessie pulled a small handkerchief out of her back pocket and, biting her lip in concentration, reached for his face. Cloud jerked away, more caught off guard than anything else, which had her loudly sighing again. "Would you quit it? Your cute face is a mess."

_Cute?_

Cloud scowled - he wasn't _cute,_ damn it all - but dutifully leaned a little closer so she could help.

Jessie's touch was surprisingly gentle, something he hadn't been expecting from someone who enjoyed blowing things up. After a moment, she finally huffed in success and said, "There." She pulled away a little, admiring her work. _"Much_ better."

Cloud leaned back, still scowling - but not as severely. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. And here," she added, reaching for Cloud's hand. It took all of his self control not to pull his hand away, and he was surprised when Jessie dropped the handkerchief in his palm. Blood - _his_ blood - stained the faintly pink, floral pattern. "Clean that for me. It'll give you a reason to see me again," she added with a faint wink.

Cloud blinked, uncomprehending… but then heat rose up his neck and kissed his cheeks. "Um. I -"

"What, will Tifa get upset?" Jessie asked. Her tone was innocent enough, but there was something else there - something sharp, something teasing. "Like, are you two... _together?_ "

Cloud's mouth worked as he tried, and failed, to come up with an answer.

"She's just teasing you, bro," Wedge said beside him.

Cloud, despite being grateful for the change in topics, glowered at him. "I'm not your _bro._ "

Wedge only grinned in response. "Sure thing, bro."

Barret, having forced himself to remain silent the entire while, looked like he was going to have a stroke.

"Got it!" Biggs suddenly shouted. A welcome distraction, and moments later the warehouse doors slid open. Biggs watched them slowly unveil, his hands on his hips and a grin on his face. "I'm a genius."

"You're a genius," Jessie grinned, skipping past him.

"Thank the gods," Barret muttered before turning to Cloud. "Spike, you're with me. Biggs and Wedge'll keep lookout for us, to make sure our escape is nice 'n ready for us when we get back."

 _They'll be out here alone?_ Cloud glanced back at the two of them over his shoulder. There must have been something written on his expression, because Biggs flashed him a grin while Wedge shot him a thumbs up.

"We'll be waiting for you," Wedge promised.

"Blow her up good," Biggs added.

Cloud frowned and, without replying, turned to follow Barret and Jessie deeper into the warehouse sector. Mako Reactor One was just up ahead, and the mako was so pungent in the air that he could practically taste it. His heart fluttered in his chest; the mako unnerved him, made him panicky. Jumpy. And he had a bad feeling about all of this - that something was going to go wrong. Horribly wrong.

Barret smirked at him. "Not too late to back out now, SOLDIER-boy."

"Wasn't going to," Cloud immediately replied, and gripped his gunsword all the tighter. He took comfort in its weight, its sharp edges, its sturdy design. They were almost at the reactor. All they had to do was plant the bomb, and they could go home.

Yet, for some reason, he had a feeling that this was going to go horribly, irrevocably wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Author here :) So I'm in the middle of moving houses, so while I still expect to publish the next chapter on July 3rd (I can't BELIEVE it's already July... wtf), I may be a few days late depending on my schedule. I'll try not to be, but sorry in advance if I am!!!
> 
> Anyway, poor Shinra infantry... RIP. Also whenever Aerith cusses, it adds years to my life lol


	13. Metal and Mako

Cloud had thought that the harsh mako scent outside of the reactor had been bad, but the inside was worse. _Far_ worse, and the pungent scent of metal and ozone had him stumbling backwards the moment Biggs had opened the entrance to Mako Reactor One. Somehow he had managed to follow Barret and Jessie inside, but now it was an effort to focus on the task in front of him. His eyes burned from its sheer intensity of the mako fumes, and his stomach rolled – rolled like he was going to be sick, but he swallowed the choking sensation down. Or at least, he tried to. But it was getting harder and harder the longer he stood within the reactor's curved walls, and soon it was becoming borderline impossible to control his swelling panic.

_"Cloud?"_

He had the vague notion that Jessie had said something to him, said something familiar, but her voice passed through his consciousness like static. Meaningless noise. He stumbled towards the railing, and his luminous eyes wide. His gaze drifted from the sheer walls of the reactor plunging into mako pool below him, to the pipes jutting out of it like tangled veins, then down, down to the reactor's burning core. He could hear the hum of its engine as it drilled deep into the Planet.

Cloud's breath hitched.

This place was a tomb. A coffin, one made of metal and mako, and he was being buried alive in it. He could almost hear Tifa's screams echoing against the walls, could hear Zack ordering him to finish Sephiroth with his final, gasping, dying breathes, could hear Sephiroth's faint chuckle as he whispered to the… the _thing,_ Jenova, embedded in the reactor's core. Could hear Sephiroth call the thing _Mother,_ and Cloud's gaze dropped further down as the word _mother_ bounced around in his skull, bounced and bounced even as his eyes descended onto the mako pool deep below them. It churned and bubbled beneath the lowermost platform, and he could almost _hear_ Sephiroth splash into it after he had ripped Jenova's head out of the core...

Cloud's fingers twitched at his side.

Suddenly, it wasn't Sephiroth that was drowning in mako, but Cloud.

It was Cloud's lungs that were being filled with the thick, warm, burning liquid.

It was _Cloud_ that could the churning mako flood his ears, mute his senses, until everything was dark and he couldn't hear anything anymore.

_This place will be your tomb._

"Cloud!"

A hand on his shoulder snapped Cloud out of his murky thoughts, and he jerked backward, reeling from the disjointed thoughts, emotions, images. But it was only Jessie who had touched him. Jessie, who was watching him with a worried look, her lips pursed and brow furrowed. "You okay?" she asked.

It took Cloud a moment to process the question, but then he was nodding, a faint jerk to his head. "Y – Yeah." His mouth felt dry, like it was full of sand, and he thickly swallowed. "I'm fine."

A blatant lie. The room seemed to sway beneath him, and it took all of his self control not to grab the railing to steady himself. Already his earlier thoughts were fading back into the fog that rolled in his mind, and it was rapidly becoming more difficult to string two thoughts together. It was an effort to concentrate on what Jessie was saying - like she was speaking through a tunnel, and he could only catch every other word. Something about how he looked pale, and that his hands were shaking…

But then all he could think about was that he arm was still on his shoulder. His _bare_ shoulder, and he could feel her palm against his skin, the clamminess of it, the heat... and it was too much. Too much. He didn't want to be touched, touched by anyone, and so he took a fumbling step backwards.

Jessie dropped her hand, a look of hurt flickering across her face... but only for a moment, and then her small, worried smile at returned. "You sure?"

"I'm fine," Cloud said again, firmer now.

"You _better_ be," came Barret's voice. "We haven't finished the job yet!"

 _Job._ Cloud's mind snagged on the word, turned it over and over and over again, rolled it around in his mind. _Job._ That's right; he was on a job, and he only agreed to go because Tifa had needed him. Because she had needed his help, and hadn't he made her a promise that he would be there for her? That he would help her whenever she was in trouble?

Cloud clenched his fists as sudden clarity flickered through his mind. _She needs me._ He had a job to do, and that meant that he had to keep it together.

No more freaking out.

"Well?" Cloud finally said. He glanced to the rest of the group, his eyes luminous in the poorly lit entranceway. "Are we going?"

Barret loudly huffed. "We were waitin' on _you,_ ya know."

"Let's hurry," Jessie said, cutting Barret off. She headed over to the edge of the railing and pointed to the bottom of the cavern, far below them, to the engine nestled against the reactor wall. "Do you see that?" she asked. When neither Barret nor Cloud replied - Cloud was far too busy looking anything _but_ the bottom of the reactor, at the mako pool bubbling there - she continued, "That's the reactor core. We'll plant the bomb at its base, blow it all to hell, and then get out of here." She flashed them a grin. "Easy."

"Got that, merc?" Barret asked.

Cloud curtly nodded. It _sounded_ simple enough, anyway. And if he was lucky, they'd finish the job quickly so they could get the hell out of here.

"Good!" Barret grinned in approval, wild and almost feral. He began moving towards a ladder at the end of the platform, one that would drop them to a lower level. "Then let's get down there."

With that, they began descended deeper into the reactor core. Jessie lead the group, as she had spent the most time studying Biggs' various maps, while Cloud stayed in the middle and Barret took up the rear - ' _so that our little SOLDIER-boy here doesn't quit the party early!'_ as he had put it. There were no elevators to aid their descent. No escalators or staircases; just ladders, long and spindly, that joined the various platforms together. It was almost as if they had been used during the reactor's construction, and no one had bothered to take them replace them with something less... flimsy.

"Goddamn..." Barret muttered as he carefully made his way down a ladder. It was particularly awkward for him as he only had the use of one hand, but he was shockingly good at it. "I can practically _taste_ the mako in here."

Cloud wordlessly agreed. He had been trying to breathe as lightly as possible as possible during their descent, but the further down they went, the stronger the mako scent became. Even the _air_ felt thicker from the sheer density of the mako until it was almost uncomfortably humid, and Cloud could all too easily imagine the slimy, sticky condensation dew on his bare skin. He tried not to think about it, tried to push it out of mind, but his earlier anxiety was beginning to seep back into his bloodstream with equal parts ice and fire.

At the very least, Barret's constant muttering provided the perfect distraction to Cloud's unease. "My heart's pounding like a _jackhammer,"_ Barret was saying. His heavy footsteps echoed hollow against the platform as the trio made their way to the next ladder. "Damn, I can't believe we're actually _doin'_ this. I've been dreaming about this for _years._ "

"Gods, you're loud," Cloud muttered as he grabbed the next ladder.

Barret only smirked as he dropped down the platform below them. "You scared?" he said as he followed Cloud down. "My talkin' making you nervous, merc?"

The leather on Cloud's palms glistened from condensation, undoubtedly from mako dewing against the ladder's metal, and he impatiently wiped it against his pants. "No."

"Head's up, boys," Jessie interjected. She was waiting for them at the end of the platform, right beside the ladder that would drop them down the lowermost platform – and the mako reactor core that waited there. "End's in sight."

"Thank the _gods."_ Barret lumbered forward, nearly pushing the much smaller Cloud out of the way. Cloud made an indignant noise of protest, one that went ignored as Barret continued, "I've been _waitin'_ for this!"

Jessie only laughed and handed him something – a dark, heavy box. "I know you have," she grinned. "Go blow her mind."

Cloud frowned. "You're not coming?"

"Nah." Jessie waved an impatient hand over the railing. "There's security down there, which'll probably mean fighting and stuff. It's just not my thing, you know?" she continued, and pushed her hair over her shoulder. "I'm sure it won't be a problem for _you_ though, Mr. SOLDIER-boy. Or should I say, Mr. _E_ _x-_ SOLDIER-boy?" she added, grinning.

Cloud frowned, which had Jessie laughing as he followed Barret down the ladder.

The next few minutes passed in a foggy blur. He and Barret had dropped to the lower platform, but there were a handful of Monodrives hovering there - small, sentient drones that more-or-less reminded Cloud of ice-cream cones... if ice-cream cones were made of a long, veiny needle that was topped with a massive bloodshot eye. Their purpose was to simply push boxes around to the various levels, and Barret and Cloud had no trouble dispatching them. Barret in particular seemed to enjoy using them as target practice, and the only close call was when one of the Monodrives had singed Barret's vest by spitting out some sort of blue, pulsing laser.

Cloud was stunned that the entirety of Midgar hadn't heard Barret's following cursing.

"I _hate_ robots," Barret continued to hiss as they neared the reactor's core. "I _hate_ 'em. _Especially_ those weird-ass half-alive machines. Why combine livin' things with robots, huh? Why not just keep 'em separate? Goddamn!" he roared as he shot down another Monodrive. It jerked in the air before falling to the ground, green blood seeping out of its metal components, before the artificial life shuddered once more and disintegrated.

Cloud gingerly stepped over the resulting sparks of pyreflies. "Dunno," he said, but in truth, he was no longer paying attention to Barret's constant complaining. He was far too aware of the mako bubbling beneath them and that, if he looked down, he would be able to see the thick green mass pooling through the holes in the grated floor. He could _taste_ it, the sickly sweet metal on his tongue. He squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly nauseous.

 _Keep it together,_ he ordered himself. _You have a job to do, rememeber? You can't freak out now._

"Say," came Barret's voice, but it sounded distant, as if it was from coming underwater. "You think, if we fell in, we'd sink right down to the bottom? To the Planet's core?"

Cloud shakily inhaled. He didn't _want_ to imagine falling into it, didn't _want_ to even contemplate how easily the floor could fall out beneath them, or an accident happened and the reactor began to flood, or _anything_ like that.

"No," he finally managed. "The reactor's engine would..." He thickly swallowed. "It would suck us back up."

"Delightful," Barret deadpanned. "But anyway…" A pause, a rustle of fabric. "Uh, Spikey, you good? You ain't lookin' so hot."

_Spikey._

Cloud's head snapped to Barret, eyes wide and flaring... but then, all of a sudden, it wasn't Barret standing there but someone else. Someone just as tall, but with black hair, long and slicked back, and an easy, almost carefree smile...

Cloud's eyes widened a fraction.

" _Zack,_ " he breathed.

Zack's expression contorted in confusion. "Zack? Who the hell is _Zack?_ " He shifted his weight to his other foot, still frowning. "You hit your head or somethin'?"

Cloud blinked. _What?_ And he was almost about to ask, but then the image... shattered. Shattered and disintegrated, until it was no longer Zack staring at him but Barret.

 _Barret_ , who was looking more and more confused. And Cloud felt as if he had been dunked in ice water.

He tore his gaze away, his hand flying to his temple. "Shit," he muttered. It was the mako fumes. They were... They were making him _see_ things, things that weren't really there. It almost made him laugh. How could he even _think_ that Zack would be here? Zack was _dead,_ killed by Sephiroth in Nibelheim, along with everyone else he cared about.

 _Except Tifa,_ he recalled.

"Yo Spikey, you good?" Barret asked after a pause. "You're kinda... actin' weird. Well," he sniffed, " _weirder._ "

Cloud shook his head, dropped his hand. "I'm fine. It's... It's the mako fumes."

"Huh." Barret sounded unconvinced.

"And don't... don't call me that." Cloud lifted his head, his eyes bright and luminous. "You can't call me that."

Barret arched an eyebrow. "Call you _what_?"

"Spikey." Zack once again flickered across his vision, all sunshine and smiles, and Cloud's expression darkened further. He had been right earlier - this place _was_ a tomb, and now all he could see were ghosts. "You can't call me that," he repeated. "Don't call me that."

"Well, ain't you just a ray of sunshine straight outta a chocobo's ass," Barret scowled. But when Cloud said nothing, only continued to stare, Barret finally sighed. "Fine," he said, scratching the back of his head. "It don't matter to me anyhow."

"Good." A headache pulsed between Cloud's eyes, thick and heavy. _Gods,_ he was tired. Tired and... and he wanted Tifa. Wanted to be near her, to see her, because she always seemed to make him feel better.

But the only way to see her was to finish this mission, and they were close. So, so close.

Cloud shook his head again, as if to clear it. "You got the bomb?" he asked.

Barret grinned at that. "Hell yeah I do!" Having seemingly forgotten Cloud's earlier episode, he turned back to the reactor core with a feral, lethal smile. "Let's blow this place sky high!"

Cloud only nodded, and with that, the two continued until they reached the reactor. Until they were so close that Cloud could feel the engine's heat against his skin, even though he was still standing a good distance away.

"Well!" Barret suddenly, and loudly, exclaimed. Turning to Cloud, he continued, "How about _you_ do the honors!" With that he pulled the black box Jessie had given him out of one of his vest pockets, and then held it out to Cloud. Held it out as if he was handing Cloud a fancy cocktail instead of a homemade bomb. "Go on," he continued, holding the bomb a little further towards Cloud. "You do it."

Cloud shifted his weight to his other foot. "Isn't this _your_ dream?"

"It is," Barret said solemnly, "but I need somethin' from you." At Cloud's arched eyebrow, he added, "You need'ta prove to me that you're really the man that Tifa says you are."

 _Huh?_ Cloud blinked. "But I -"

"You gotta!" Cloud could see the vein fluttering in Barret's neck, the tell-tale sign that he was about to lose his patience. "And don't forget that I'm _payin'_ to order you around, remember?" He jerked the box closer to Cloud. "So do the damn job!"

Cloud's gaze dropped to the bomb, at its black exterior and sharp edges, before he finally sighed. "Fine," he said, grabbing it. At this point, he didn't care _who_ set the bomb. At this point, he'd do almost anything to get out of here, and his footsteps rang hollow against the metal platform as he walked closer to the reactor core. The heat made his forehead prick with sweat, and he paused at the core's base/

It _was_ eerily similar to Nibelheim's reactor, and a part of him almost wondered if there'll be another person floating around inside this core. That it would be called _M_ _other..._

Pain slit through his temple.

It was intense enough that Cloud nearly dropped the bomb, which would have been a disaster, but he managed to keep a firm grip on it even as his other hand snaked to his hairline. His fingers pressed into his temple as his head _throbbed,_ a steady ache powerful enough to drown even the roar of the bubbling mako beneath him, and he gasped from its intensity.

But then something caught his eye. Something floating down to the reactor's platform, and Cloud managed to turn his head just far enough to see what it was. And his eyes widened. Widened at the black feather that drifted towards the ground, but the moment it touched the floor, it disintegrated like smoke. _Like ash,_ and the realization had him minutely recoiling.

 _It's not real,_ he told himself, and shook his head. _It's just… It's just the mako fumes. Calm down. You're good._

"What's the damn hold up, huh?" came an impatient voice behind him. "You ain't freakin' out on me again, are ya?"

Cloud lowered his hand – he didn't even remember lifting it. "I'm fine," he finally replied, and with that, he turned back to the bomb. It was heavy in his hands, and he _tried_ to push his hallucinations out of his head, _tried_ to focus, but it was like trying to squint through fog. Everything was murky. Unclear. Indistinct, and he squinted at the bomb's timer, at the small buttons beside it, and tried to piece together what it all meant. "What about the timer?" he asked after a lengthy pause.

"Your call, merc."

Cloud could hear the smirk in Barret's voice, but he didn't have the energy to comment. Instead, after a brief moment of deliberation, he set the timer for twenty minutes – plenty of time to climb out of the reactor, meet up with the rest of the team, and get the hell out of here.

Barret, who had been looking over his shoulder, snorted. "Pretty cocky, ain't ya?"

Cloud only turned to Barret and blinked. _Was it?_ he wondered, but then heard a harsh clanging from somewhere above him. Like metal slamming against metal, and he tensed as the noise grew close. Close enough that the platform beneath his boots began to tremble.

"Something's coming," he murmured as he reached for the gunblade slung onto his back. Barret made a noise of protest, something about _nothing is there_ and _you're just imagining things,_ and for one awful, gut-wrenching moment, Cloud wondered if Barret was right. That he _was_ hallucinating the rattling echoing above them, but then a sound like ripping metal screeched through the air.

"Oh _shit!"_ Barret shouted.

And with that, Cloud knew that it was real – but he had no time to feel relieved about it, no time to calm down. "Heads up!" he called, and Barret loudly cursed as an armored mech slammed down in front of them, rattling the platform. The mech vaguely resembled a scorpion, one with red plating, two clawed arms, and a barbed tail that snaked and coiled at its rear.

Cloud silently cursed. _A Scorpion Sentinel,_ he realized. He remembered when the Science and Technology Department had first developed this particular type of mech, though this one seemed to be considerably newer, more modern, and appeared far more lethal that the prototype _ever_ had. Its tail was particularly concerning, and he didn't recognize the strange barb at its tip. All he knew was that it would undoubtedly hurt if they got hit by it.

Barret had his gun trained on where the machine's face could be, and his eyes were wide behind his glasses. "How the hell do we fight this thing?" he shouted to Cloud. Barely-contained panic rattled his voice. "Huh?!"

Cloud narrowed his eyes – both against the sentinel's flashing green lights, but also at the pain that hissed through his temple. He _knew_ this answer, knew it from infantry training, but delving down into the murky memories was… difficult. Confusing. Hadn't he fought one of these before, at least in a simulation? "It – It's got reinforced armored plating," he finally dredged up.

Barret's sigh was audible as the sentinel began lumbering forward. "Obviously!"

"But it's internals can be overloaded." Cloud threw himself to the side as the sentinel stepped forward, its six pointed limbs slamming into the platform, and slashed out with its arm. He could feel the wind pass against his face as he continued, his voice strangely flat, "Using a... a thunder materia would be best."

 _Except I don't have any,_ Cloud suddenly realized. In fact, now that he thought about it, he didn't have _any_ materia. He had wanted to buy some in the slums, but Tifa had said that materia was too expensive to sell there. _Maybe there's a shop above the plate?_

"I ain't _got_ materia!" Barret replied, snapping Cloud out of his thoughts. "Do you?"

"No." Cloud steadied his blade in front of him, prepared to either throw himself into a defensive position or assume an offensive one. "Guess we just have to... hit it?"

Barret seemed oddly happy by that fact. "No other option, huh?" he said, and immediately began shooting. Bullets pinged off of the sentinel's armor, and the empty cartridges rained to the ground. Cloud – clenching his jaw – threw himself into the fray, and prayed that Barret didn't miss. The sound of gunfire rattled his teeth as he slammed his sword into the sentinel's legs. He aimed for its joints, but the edge of his blade merely bounced against the hardened metal. He swore as the recoil jolted up his arms and sent him stumbling backward.

 _Definitely a newer model,_ he realized. The old model was not nearly as sturdy, not to mention that this sentinel's movements were quick, far quicker than they should be for a mech of this side. _Did_ _Science and Technology make a more advanced model in secret?_

Without warning, the harsh red beam of a laser settled directly on his chest. His thoughts sputtered and died as his attention flicked to the laser, at how it pulsed and focused on the patch of fabric directly over his heart.

The sound of gunfire momentarily paused. "Uh, should I be worried?" Barret asked as the laser pinned on Cloud grew in intensity.

 _Shit._ Cloud, mentally kicking himself for not taking action sooner, madly began to run in the other direction. "Run!" he shouted over his shoulder. But when Barret made a move in his direction, teeth bared, Cloud said louder, "But not towards me, _idiot_!"

Barret's expression contorted in righteous indignation, but before the larger man could reply, the Scorpion Sentinel spit out a series of missiles.

Cloud's eyes widened, the mako within them flaring...

... and time slowed.

The sentinel had spit out a volley of missiles, seven in total, and Cloud knew that these were no mere bullets. Bullets he could dodge and cut in half, but missiles... missiles were far more deadly, and hacking away at them would only make them explode directly beside him and cause more damage.

So he did the first thing he could think of. He began shooting at them, his aim deadly accurate, hoping to detonate them before they got too close. His weapon was a blur as he shot one down, adjusted his aim, and then another, and another, only to realize that he didn't have enough time. That he _couldn't_ shoot them all down, he was too slow to matter how quick his reflexes were, and he threw himself to the side out of sheer desperation. Heat splashed his legs as he tucked and rolled, only for another explosion to echo on his left. He lifted an arm to protect his face, and red-hot shrapnel peppered his bare arm as another missile exploded beside him, and he coughed a curse as the blast rolled over him.

_"Cloud!"_

The smoke had already begun to fade, but Cloud had no time to rest, no time to pause and regain his bearings, because only six missiles had detonated and he _knew_ that he counted seven. So he lifted his head, his eyes bright and burning with both mako and smoke, only to come face-to-face with the metal hull of the final missile.

His eyes flew wide, wide enough that the glow of his eyes were reflected on the missile's metal plating.

_Shit._

Adrenaline pulsed white-hot beneath his skin, and he twisted his body faster than any human should be capable of. The missile streaked passed his cheek, burning hot, before slamming into the ground behind him. The force was powerful enough to knock Cloud off balance and send him skidding against the platform.

"Oh _shit!_ You good, Spikey!? Er, I mean… Ah, _whatever the hell!_ "

But Cloud hadn't heard Barret. He was already pushing himself back to his feet, wide-eyed and frantic. The world momentarily swayed around him before snapping sickeningly back into place, and his grip tightened on his gunblade; by some miracle, he had not dropped it in the various explosions. He could hear Barret shooting the Scorpion Sentinel, as well as his shouting when a bullet slammed against his bullet-proof vest. Could hear the harsh whir of grinding gears as the sentinel jumped forward and backward. Could hear the mako bubbling beneath him...

 _"You good?!"_ Barret called to him.

Cloud sucked in breath, still reeling by his survival. "I'm, uh, I'm fine," he managed to stammer, which only compounded on his surprise because it was _true._ He only had a few burns at the worst, most congregated on his bare arms, while the rest of the damage had been absorbed by the SOLDIER uniform Tifa had bought for him. He made a mental note to thank her, only to snap his head up when he heard Barret suddenly shout out. It wasn't the usual curse, or a shout of indignation, but one of surprise. Of _fear_ , fear that had Cloud turning his way, his grip like iron on his sword, and his injuries faded into the back of his mind.

His eyes widened in horror. The sentinel had managed to grab Barret in a vice-like hold, and it was currently holding the large man suspended in the air. Barret was kicking his legs, but as his arms were pinned at his side, and there wasn't much else he could do.

"Yo, merc!" Barret glanced his way, his eyes wide behind his sunglasses. "A little _help_!?"

Cloud responded by lifting his gunsword and shooting at its joints, even as he ran towards it. He popped off one shot, then another, before he was close enough to slam the blade into that same joint – the same joint he had been trying to snap off earlier.

This time, it broke off entirely. Barret whooped as he fell to the ground, free at last, while Cloud lightly landed beside him. His arms tingled. His fingers twitched against the hilt, and he lifted his gaze. He wasn't done yet, and he swung his back leg behind him and, leveling his sword until it was at eye-level, thrust forward with all the energy he had spare. The thrust was so heavy, so fast, that light spilled from the blade and burst upon impact, showering him with red and momentarily dying his pale hair a bloody scarlet.

"Hell yeah!" Barret cheered as the metal plating cracked and fragmented. "Good shot!"

The sentinel shook itself as Cloud danced backward, his expression crossed between wild and dazed, when the sentinel suddenly stood upright and launched itself against the far walls of the reactor. Cloud could hear the walls rattle as it began scrambling along the wall, only for it to land on the opposite end of the same platform. With that it shuddered; there was a flicker of light, and suddenly a strange, pulsing blue glow shimmered against its metal frame.

Barret glanced at him. "What the hell is that light, merc?"

Cloud _almost_ said that he didn't know, but held his tongue. If he didn't know better, he would say that it was some sort of shielding technique… but as far as he knew, Shinra was still developing that technology for mech use. It hadn't even made it in their prototypes yet because they hadn't figured out a way to sustain long periods of hyper energy activity... or something.

 _This doesn't make sense,_ Cloud finally decided, his lips pressed into a fine, white line, before he said, "A... barrier?" It _had_ to be – there was just no other explanation.

Barret shot him a baffled look, only to throw himself to the side as the sentinel lurched forward. "You don't sound so sure!" he accused. "And I _thought_ that you were the expert!"

Cloud parried the sentinel's sweeping claw, his teeth grit from exertion. "I never -" he grunted as the machine pushed him backward, and his boots skidded against the platform, "- promised that."

"Well, _Tifa_ did." Barret paused shooting to pin him with a look. "You sayin' she's a liar?!"

Cloud frowned. "No." He slammed his blade into the Scorpion Sentinel's tail, and sparks burst from the impact like fireworks; white-hot, brilliant fireworks that faded seconds later. He squinted against them, his lips bared back in a grimace. He wasn't doing any damage. They had to take out the barrier-shield thing, but... _how?_ What was the source? Where -

He could see the source of the barrier – a small, rounded disc at the base of the sentinel's sweeping tale - and his eyes widened a fraction. _There._ The disc pulsed with dull red light, and the barrier pulsed with it, mirroring it like a pulse or a heartbeat.

Cloud aimed his gunsword at the small disc. "Aim for the rear!" he shouted, then fired once. Twice. Three times, and the bullets pierced the dead center of the disc, but didn't do much damage. Didn't even crack the disc, and Cloud grit his teeth in frustration. He had wanted to avoid close combat with the tail, but now he was wondering if he didn't have any choice – that if he wanted to take out the Scorpion Sentinel's barrier, he would have to break its source with the sword aspect of his blade instead of the far weaker gun component.

"Move aside, SOLDIER-boy!" Barret suddenly shouted, and then his hand was on Cloud's shoulder, pushing him to the side. Cloud only stared, too shocked at the touch to be upset. "Lemme show you how it's _done._ "

With that, Barret leveled his gunarm and fired. While his gun far more powerful than the pistol embedded in Cloud's sword, its aim was far less accurate. Nevertheless, a few of the bullets managed to strike true, and a series of cracks began to spiderweb on the disc's surface.

It was enough for Cloud to almost smile.

"Hell yeah!" Barret shouted. The gunshots lit up his grin in brief flashes of light. "You see that?"

Cloud gripped his sword a bit tighter as the barrier pulsed, flickered, and weakened. "Good work."

"Good work?" Barret parroted, then laughed. The sound of gunshots echoed against the metal walls. "You mean _great_ work! I'm the _best,_ and don't you forget it!"

But with every hit, the sentinel only stood further and further upright. Cloud didn't like the look of it, and warned, "Don't celebrate just yet," as blue light began to gather around the fading remnants of its shield.

Barret paused his firing. "What's it doing _now_?" he demanded, before swiveling his gaze to Cloud. "Do you know?!"

But Cloud had no answers. He only continued to watch the sentinel, brow furrowed and sword held defensively in front of him. The blue light grew brighter and brighter…

… and then it clicked.

" _Move!"_ Cloud shouted. "EM field!"

Barret glanced at him, stunned. "A _what_ now?"

But Cloud had no time to reply. He only had just enough time to grab Barret's wrist and half-drag, half-throw the much larger man further away from the sentinel, when the blue light suddenly exploded outward.

Cloud immediately spun and lowered his center of gravity, his chest tucked against his knees, and squeezed his eyes shut as the shockwave rippled passed. He felt the heat of the shockwave beneath his shoes, the tingle of his skin as the electricity hissed through the air. And then nothing. Quiet.

He shakily exhaled as he uncurled himself to stand fully upright, Barret at his side. The larger man was wide-eyed and, for once, silent.

But not for long. "The hell?" Barret finally said as he scrambled back onto his feet. "What was _that?_ "

Cloud bounced on the balls of his feet, trying to get some feeling back in his toes. "EM field, or electro-magnetic field. Stuns you so you can't move. Leaves... It leaves you defenseless."

"This this is just _full_ of surprises," Barret grumbled as he slowly got to his feet. He clenched and unclenched his fist, almost as if his hand had fallen asleep. "I owe you one."

Cloud only shrugged. "Just part of the job."

 _And speaking of the job,_ he thought, frowning, _how much longer do we have on that timer?_

He had completely forgotten about it, but now that he had remembered, it was all his mind could focus on. He wasn't sure _how_ much time they had spent fighting the Scorpion Sentinel, and at this point, he was afraid to ask. All he knew was that they had been fighting for far too long, and that it was about time they finished it off.

Cloud's grip on his gunsword tightened. "Let's end this," he said.

Barret smirked. "Couldn't have said it better myself, merc."

Soon, only the sounds of gunshots and metal slamming against metal rang throughout the reactor.

* * *

Shinra HQ was quiet at night. Quiet and dark, with only the flickering nightlights and the faint flashing of sleeping computer monitors to accompany the silence. The hallways were empty, the elevators were dimmed, and the various lobbies were silent - for once. Only the most dedicated of Shinra's employees remained this late.

And Heidegger considered himself one of the best. He leaned back in his leather chair, the familiar walls of his cluttered office settling around him. As the head of the Public Safety division, his office was a mangled hybrid of a server room and a typical paper-pushing office. A wall made entirely of monitors glowed with pale light, the only light in the dimmed room, and various images flickered across their screens. Most were boring, such as various train stations or busy Midgar streets, but some - like the one Heidegger was focussing on - were very, _very_ interesting.

"Sir," the infantryman began – one that Heidegger had long since forgotten the name to. "The – The Scorpion Sentinel has been deployed, sir."

"Good." Heidegger sat back on his chair, the leather groaning beneath him, and folded his hands beneath his chin. His dark gaze flicked across the series of screens dedicated to Sector One and within their pale interiors, he could see the small team that had infiltrated Mako Reactor One squirm. Though, admittedly, not as much as he'd prefer.

He frowned. In fact, they were doing surprisingly well. In particular, the two which had branched off from the group – the dark-skinned, large man with the gun grafted to his arm, and the much paler, thinner, blond-haired man who wielded an old gunblade model – were holding their own against the Scorpion Sentinel. The _Scorpion Sentinel,_ of all things. Even SOLDIERs had trouble with those mechs. Granted, they were mostly 3rd Class SOLDIERS, but still. SOLDIERs just the same. And these two men were... were _winning_ against it?

Heidegger hummed, a low, dark sound. It _irritated_ him that these men – no, these _sewer rats –_ believed that they could crawl out of whatever hole they had been sweltering in and infiltrate Shinra property? And not just infiltrate, either. Not at all. They had expected to _waltz_ right into one of the largest mako reactors in Midgar, and… _what_? Blow it up?

The nerve. The ignorance. The absolute _stupidity_.

Heidegger would show them what would happen what would happen when they involved themselves with Shinra.

That said, he had to admit that this was the most exciting thing that had happened to him all week, and he was the head of Shinra's _Public Security_ _department_. Exciting things happened on the daily. In fact, it was only last week that he had been tasked to gun down two of Hojo's escaped projects just outside of Midgar, and he had thought that _that_ had been the highlight of his month.

And yet, here he was, watching some brats from Avalanche try to blow up a _reactor._

Heidegger leaned forward, his lips twitching into a sharp, brittle smile. "Leave them," he finally said to the infantryman. "Let's see how they do."

The infantryman looked up from his report. "S – Sir?"

"Leave them," Heidegger said again. _God,_ he hated infantrymen sometimes. He swore that they all shared the same braincell, and not a very good one at that. Leaning forward, he continued, "I want to see what these sewer rats are capable of." After all, there was something clinically satisfying in seeing just how far the sewer rats would be able to get, and he suddenly realized that this feeling is what Hojo probably got off on during his experiments.

But the thought of relating to Hojo on _anything_ made Heidegger visibly recoil, and he quickly pushed the thought of his mind. He and Hojo had _nothing_ in common. Absolutely nothing _._

"B – But sir, if they… if they really are Avalanche, then shouldn't we..." The infantryman thickly swallowed. "Then, well, shouldn't we alert the Turks?" He appeared to be trembling at the door, and he was holding his report so tightly that his gloved hands crumpled the paper. "Avalanche is, after all, their mission, ordered from President, and -"

"No, we can handle this on our own," Heidegger said quickly. "No need to get the Turks involved. They're _Rufus'_ pets, anyway - they'd just get in the way." He leaned back on his chair, his eyes pinned to the screens. Particularly the monitor that streamed footage of the two men fighting the Scorpion Sentinel. The larger man was doing his best to gun down the mech, but he admittedly wasn't doing a very good job. He was very obviously not military trained, which of course, begged the question of where he came from – especially with a weapon surgically grafted onto his arm. Men like that don't just appear out of thin air. Not without good reason.

And then there was the other one, the blond-haired man with the sword, which seemed to raise even _more_ questions. The sword itself was large; not large enough to be considered for SOLDIER, but large enough that it needed the SOLDIER-style magnetic holster. Then there was his SOLDIER-esc uniform as well, and if he spun and the light hit his face _just right,_ Heidegger could make out his glowing eyes… the tell-tale signs of mako enhancement.

 _Or mako poisoning,_ Heidegger recalled. _Runaway SOLDIER, perhaps?_ If that were the case, then it would be the first runaway SOLDIERs since Genesis, Angeal, and Sephiroth - and he knew that the President wouldn't want _that_ particular mess recreated. In fact, if Heidegger was the first one to alert the President, then perhaps there would be a promotion in store for him. _Or more,_ he thought, grinning.

"Infantryman," Heidegger said, and his loud voice echoed in the room.

The infantryman jolted. "Y – Yes sir?"

"I want to know who that blond-haired man is," he continued. "Name, place of origin, history. Everything."

The infantryman's eyes widened. "Ev - Everything, sir?" Heidegger didn't bother replying. He only pinned the man with a long, dry stare, and the infantryman began to tremble once again. "Should I, um, should I ask the Turks?"

A vein pulsed in Heidegger's temple, and he slowly – oh so slowly – said, "Did I not just give you an _order,_ infantryman?"

The infantryman violently shook his head. "N – No sir. I mean, yes sir! I understand, sir! I'll just -"

"You'll do your job," Heidegger finished for him, and then turned back to the monitors. "Now leave."

The infantryman practically tripped over himself on his way out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lemme just say it now: poor Cloud. I'm sure that being exposed to even MORE mako after literally just recovering from mako poisoning is like, an absolute worst-case scenario for him. Poor guy can't just catch a break. Also, writing boss battles is surprisingly hard? I was watching the Scorpion Sentinel fight while writing this scene, and there's just so much going on... I definitely had to cut out large chunks of the fight.
> 
> But anyway! Next chapter will come out on Friday, July 10th (well, ideally... things are still kinda weird because of moving). But until then, stay well, stay safe, and I wish you all nothing but the best :)


	14. Phone Calls and Chaos

Cloud's breathing was ragged as he slashed at the Scorpion Sentinel, and the sound of metal slamming against metal resounded through the reactor's core. It echoed in his head. Ricocheted within the confines of his mind and reverberated through him, a steady rhythm punctuated by gunshots, the sentinel's harsh clanging, the platform rattling beneath him with every desperate, frantic step. A part of him knew that Barret was nearby and was fighting. Sometimes he even heard the Avalanche leader's sharp laugh every time he managed a particularly good shot, but it was just… noise. Noise that twisted and knotted inside Cloud's head. Trembled down his spine. Shook him to his core.

But they were almost there. They were almost done, because the Scorpion Sentinel was looking pretty ragged; its metal plating was riddled with cuts and bullet holes, and entire pieces had been ripped off to revel the tangled wire mesh beneath. Some of the wires had sparked and ignited, and now flames licked the side of the sentinel and snaked up its legs, spitting out both smoke and sparks that mingled with the bullets that the sentinel seemed to continuously launch. Somewhere within the chaos, Cloud had settled into a rhythm, or a dance: stab, parry, twist, shoot, then repeat, until the world was a fire-soaked blur of gray and red around him. He became something of a machine. An automation. The very thing they were trying so hard to kill.

And seeing a brief opening, Cloud crouched before launching himself forward. He became a mere blur against the ground, and the sentinel was too slow to react - far too slow - and he landed a series of clean hits against one of its legs. The blows rang true with a clean, hollow sound that set his teeth on edge, and the leg's armor plating bent, cracked, then finally crumpled beneath its own weight.

With a harsh screech, the Scorpion Sentinel collapsed.

The entire platform rattled and groaned when the sentinel fell heavily on its side, and for a single, gut-wrenching moment, Cloud was afraid that the platform would collapse. That it was would break and he would fall into the mako pool beneath him, into that thick, green, bubbling sludge, unable to stop or save himself. And he _knew_ what would happen next. He _knew_ that the mako would be thick and warm the moment he splashed into it, but then after a few seconds, his skin would begin to tingle as the mako burned off the first layer of his skin. Then if he didn't get out fast enough, his fingers and toes would go numb and the numbness would creep up his limbs like spiders, like ants, sapping him of strength, until he'd eventually go limp and sink beneath the surface.

And then he would inhale the mako, and it would be like inhaling tar. First it would burn his lips. Then his throat. Then fill his lungs, choking him of air, robbing him of any hope to gain another breath. Then he would sink to the bottom of the mako pool... and the reactor's engine would suck him right back up.

Cloud inhaled a shuddering breath.

Nearby, Barret leveled his gun at the downed Scorpion Sentinel. Light began to gather at its tip, and when the light grew nearly blinding in intensity, he let the overcharged shot go with a wild cry. The bullet, if the glowing, pulsing orb could be called as such, slammed into the downed sentinel before cutting straight through, leaving a fist-sized hole in its wake.

The damage was impressive, and Barret let out a whoop. "That _that,_ you automated asshole!"

"You could do that the whole time?" Cloud asked, righting his blade. His voice sounded like it was coming from underwater, but he couldn't tell if it was because he was speaking quietly or because his head felt fuzzy, like it had been stuffed with cotton. Maybe both.

Barret shot him a wild, cocky grin. "It takes time to charge!" he shot back, and then he was back to firing regular bullets at the downed Scorpion Sentinel. Each staggered blast lit up his face with blinding light. "But _goddamn,_ I killed the bastard! I'm the _best_!"

Cloud turned back to the sentinel, his eyes narrowed, the sea-glass irises bright despite the heavy smoke beginning to choke the cavern. The sentinel certainly _looked_ dead. Or at least, it was certainly _dying._ Its five remaining legs twitched helplessly at its side, much like an oversized, overturned beetle, and its barbed tail rippled against the ground in sporadic, twitching movements. The wires that had torn free in Barret's shot now spit and sprayed sparks onto the ground, and Cloud could hear them hiss when they touched the mako swirling beneath the platform.

But Cloud wasn't looking at the mako; or at least, he was trying his damnest not to. His gaze was instead pinned on the sentinel's eye, which had begun to flicker between soft green and blazing red... before going utterly dark. After a few beats and nothing changed, Cloud felt himself relax a fraction. "I think it's dead."

Barret laughed, a crazy sound. "I _told_ ya so! I told ya! See?" He grinned at Cloud, wide and feral. "I'm _the best!_ And don't you forget it!"

Barret's loud voice grated against Cloud's sensitive ears and scraped the inside of his mind, and he winced from the assault. "What you are is _loud_ ," he muttered as he rubbed the side of his head, as if to massage the harsh noise out of him. "Aren't you ever... _quiet_?"

"Hell nah! I got things to say, and I mean to say it!"

"You really don't need to," Cloud muttered, but his attention was suddenly snagged by something else. There was a faint _beeping_ sound coming from somewhere nearby, and while it was nearly too quiet for him to hear, it was slowly growing in intensity. It took him another moment to realize that the beeping sound was coming from the Scorpion Sentinel, and now that mech had become the focal point of his attention, he noticed that the sentinel was acting... strangely.

Cloud's grip tightened on his gunblade sentinel's body began to vibrate. The beeping morphed into a clanging, one that continued to grow with intensity.

Barret took a step towards the machine. "Hell nah," he said. "It _can't_ be! I put a massive hole in it! So why's it suddenly moving, huh?"

"It... It doesn't matter." Cloud's luminous eyes flicked from the timer to the sentinel, then back again. "Let's go. The timer's ticking."

Barret's expression hardened. "Right," he said, and began jogging back to the platform's ladder.

Cloud moved to follow when, without warning, the sentinel's tail suddenly jolted upright. He spun around as blue light began to gather at the tail's barb, and his breath caught in his throat. He _knew_ that light, knew it from distant, ragged memory, and his voice was hoarse as he shouted, _"Duck!"_

Barret hit the deck without even turning around, and there was another thud as Cloud did the same. And not a moment too soon; the light at the barb's tip sharply focussed before it shot out a beam... one that went wild. Barret loudly cursed as the laser streaked above him before pivoting in a harsh V shape, then tore through the reactor's engine, destroying it. Mako fumes, tinged green from its sheer concentration, immediately erupted from the damaged mechanics while the laser continued along the walls then up to the roof, tearing the wall and snapping pipes all the while. Flames trailed behind it as pipes were cut and electrical wires were torn.

When the sentinel's laser weakened and died completely, Cloud allowed himself to minutely lift up his head up off the floor... and his eyes widened. Long, chared streaks criss-crossed the walls and ceiling. Some of the platforms that had been unfortunate enough to be in its way had been torn neatly in half, and the jagged, white-hot edges dripped molten metal on whatever was unfortunate to be below it.

"Goddamn," Barret murmured at his side. He coughed on the smoke. "I hate that stupid thing."

Cloud wordlessly agreed, only to suddenly jolt when the damaged engine unexpectedly ignited for a second time. But instead of blasting smoke and steam _,_ it exploded with fire - a fire that had combusted from stray sparks and liquid mako. _"Shit!"_ Barret shouted as the deafening blast rattled the cavern, and when Cloud blinked open his eyes next, the air was dark with smoke and heavy with the taste of metal and acid, an effect made only more potent by the small explosions that rippled up and down the sentinel's body.

And the sentinel was moving.

Cloud's eyes flared as his hold tightened on the hilt of his gunblade. _It's alive,_ he realized, and the thought filled him with cold dread. They didn't have _time_ to fight the sentinel some more. In fact, they were rapidly running _out_ of time, and his eyes flicked to Barret. _Should I tell him to... to run?_ he wondered, his mind struggling to find the words, to align them in the correct order. _And... And I can meet up... meet up later? But Tifa..._

"You go ahead," Barret suddenly said. "Meet up with Jessie and get her out of here." He took a step closer to the sentinel as it struggled to stand, its legs wobbling beneath it. Its joints creaked and groaned with every shaky step. "I'll hold off the sentinel."

Cloud blinked, and it took him a moment to process what Barret was saying. But when it did... "No," he said, his voice firm. "I'll... I'll stay."

"Merc, I _thought_ I told you that I paid you to boss you around," Barret told him, but then lips twitched into a sharp smile. An unexpected smile, one that had Cloud frowning. "'Sides, I promised Tifa somethin'."

Cloud's frown deepened. _A p_ _romise..._ now _that_ meant something to him. "Promised?" he echoed, just as the sentinel stood fully upright. He tensed as it lifted its arms, the automatic machine guns whirring to life within their thick barrels... when an arm suddenly snapped off, unable to take the strain. It hit the ground with a heavy thud and the sentinel teetered over, suddenly off-balanced, only to immediately applied more weight to the opposite legs. But the weight proved too great, far too great, and with an ear-splitting crack, the legs broke completely. It was a clean break, right through the joints, and the Scorpion Sentinel wavered unsteadily on its feet.

So Cloud lifted his gun and shot one of them, directly at one of its damaged joints.

The joint promptly snapped, and with a harsh grinding noise, the sentinel slammed into the railing before falling into the mako reactor below.

And exploded.

Green fire ballooned into the air, a fire so potent of mako that it burned Cloud's eyes and throat, and he coughed as he stumbling backwards. He heard, as if from a great distance, Barret's sharp-tongued cursing, and the world swaying nauseatingly around him...

... _and then he was staring through a glass wall, one that was curved around him like a jar, and there was something staring in at him. No - not something. Someone. Someone with a greasy salt-and-pepper hair and a hooked nose, and he was smiling. He always seemed to be smiling..._

" _N_ _ow, Sample C, no more setbacks. No more failures," the man was saying. "I have high expectations for you, but we can't have you vomiting with every injection. Understand? Unless you want Sample Z to take your dose for you..."_

 _... and_ Cloud slammed a hand against his mouth, hard enough to bruise his lips as his stomach twisted and rolled. _What... What was that?_ he wondered, wide-eyed. _I don't..._

"Hot _damn_ ," Barret whistled as he watched the fire roll and mushroom straight to the ceiling. "That's a _helluva_ nice sound! Serves that stupid piece of shit robot right, too! Asshole!" he called down to its rapidly sinking form. "Now _stay_ dead!"

Cloud squeezed his eyes shut. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Every faint breath tasted heavily of mako, and he was going to be sick. But he couldn't be sick. He couldn't, because bad things would happen, and -

"Hey, SOLDIER-boy, you good?" Barret had moved to his side at some point, and actually looked... concerned. Not at all like he had back in the bar. Or anytime during the mission. Or... ever. "You ain't freakin' out again, are ya?"

"Not... freaking out." Cloud lowered his hand; his stomach still rolled, but he had a distraction now, something else to hold on to. He had to focus on something else. Had to think about something else. "The… The mako," he finally managed. "It's... a lot."

Barret made a noise of agreement. "Yeah, I get that. Makes me feel sick too. So let's get the hell out of here, yeah?" He glanced back to the engine, his jaw clenched. "I dunno how long that timer has been going," he continued, turning back to Cloud, "but I'm sure as hell not gonna… _Shit,_ your eyes!"

Cloud blinked at him, startled by his tone. "What's - What's wrong with them?"

"They're... they're like, slitted." Barret made a face. "Shit. That normal? That a SOLDIER thing?"

 _Slitted?_ Cloud's memory tumbled backwards, back to a silver-haired SOLDIER with bright green, slitted eyes, and he shivered. "Must be the... the mako."

"Huh." Barret looked at him a second longer, then his eyes widened. _"Damn!_ Never mind your freaky SOLDIER shit, we ain't got the time! This place gonna _blow!"_ What that, he turned and began running towards the ladder – but not before double checking that Cloud was following, too. "Wedge should be covering our way out!"

Cloud nodded, even though Barret had his back turned and couldn't see. The world was a swaying blur around him; all he could think about, all he could sense, was how strong the mako tasted on his tongue. How sharp it smelled. How humid it was. Not to mention that his eyes were slitted...

 _No,_ he told himself as his stomach rolled again. _Don't think... think about that. Focus. Everything's... okay._

Barret had begun to climb the ladder first, and was now shambling up the rungs with a shocking amount of speed. "Go go go!" he shouted as he continued to climb. "We gotta _move!"_

Firelight stained the walls a flickering red, and heat warmed Cloud's back as he hurried up the ladder. _Out._ He wanted out. He wanted out _desperately,_ and it struck him as to just how familiar that feeling was. Shockingly familiar, and he stretched his hand out to grab another rung of the ladder...

_...and then a door was suddenly being pulled out of his hands, and he looked up, blinking in confusion, and found himself staring into a pair of very startled, very blue eyes..._

...and Cloud gasped, his hands slipping on the ladder.

_Zack?_

Barret leaned over the railing. "Merc!" he shouted. "Don't you dare fall on me! Tifa will _beat_ my ass!"

Cloud blinked the sweat out of his eyes. _Shit_. He strengthened his grip on his ladder and continued to climb, his breaths short and panicked. "Fine," he said, even as he wondered, _The hell is... going on?_ Ever since he entered the reactor, it's been nothing but hallucination after hallucination, and now they were blending together, the line between the present and the past becoming blurred, and he was slowly becoming unsure of what side he was standing on. Even thinking was becoming more and more difficult, and his mind was stumbling over the words, over their meaning. _Am I..._ He thickly swallowed. _Am I going... going crazy?_

The thought paled him.

"You good?" Barret asked when he reached the top. He laughed, but it sounded strained. "Damn, you nearly ate shit! Thought I'd hafta fish you outta the reactor for a second there!"

Cloud clenched his hands into fists to hide their trembling. "I'm... fine."

"Fine, huh? Is that the only thing you know how'ta say?!"

Cloud glared at him.

"Okay, okay. _Yeesh."_ Barret began heading towards the next ladder. "Just tryin'a lighten the mood."

Cloud didn't want to lighten the mood, he just wanted to be back at Tifa's apartment. Where she would be. Where nothing smelled or tasted like mako. Where it was safe. "Time?"

"Dunno," Barret said as he grabbed the ladder with his good arm. "Ten minutes, maybe?"

Cloud squinted at the platform above them. "Shit."

"Shit," Barret agreed, and the two of them began to climb.

"You guys finally made it!" Jessie called the moment they reached the top. She ran towards them, grinning. "I saw the battle – very badass! You showed that thing who's _boss_!"

Barret grinned as they highfived. "Hell yeah!"

"And Cloud, good job too," Jessie said as he hurried to his side. He had been gazing down to the mangled engine below them, but her upbeat voice had him turning towards her, surprised. "I saw how you shot the mech at the end there so it would fall into the mako. _Very_ cool."

It took a moment for her words to pierce the fog in his mind, but when it did, his lips twitched into a smile. "Thanks."

Jessie beamed.

"Quit jabberin' and let's hurry the hell up!" Barret shouted at the two of them. He was already running up the flight of stairs, retracing the steps they took to enter the reactor. "Biggs and Wedge are waitin' for us!"

"Yes, sir!" Jessie quipped and, with one last grin at Cloud, hurried to follow.

Cloud took a step forward, but something above them caught his eye. He jerked his head up just in time to see a thick metal pipe, one of many that had been hit by the Scorpion Sentinel's chaotic final attack, groan and dip. Then, with a final crack, a segment broke off the main body and began to fall, heavy and graceless, before slamming onto the very platform they were standing on... and then snapping it in half.

The ground shuddered once before giving out, and Cloud's stomach clawed into his throat as his body suddenly lifted, weightless. His eyes flared and he looked down, down to the mako pool bubbling far beneath him, and he recoiled in absolute rejection. He would _not_ fall into the mako, would _not_ drown in it, and in his desperation, he slammed his feet on the falling platform and launched himself into the air. His goal was a small pipe that had ran above the platform, but he hadn't been certain he'd make it until his fingers coiled around its warm metal.

He dangled there for a moment, breathing heavily as his legs swaying beneath him, his heart hammering in his chest. _That_ _was... close._ Lifting his head, and trying to calm his sparking nerves, he slowly exhaled before to swinging back to the intact platform.

"You're alive!" Jessie said the moment his feet touched the platform. Her leg was pinned by a slab of stone that had fallen from the ceiling, and Cloud hurried to her and helped lift it off of her. "Thank god," she continued as she wiggled herself free, seemingly uncaring that she had been pinned beneath a ton of concrete just a second ago. "I thought for sure you were dead."

"Me too," Cloud admitted, but his gaze hadn't moved from his ankle. "You... You okay?"

"Ah, yeah. No worries." She rubbed her ankle; or rather, the metal bracer that had protected it. The metal was scraped, the worst of it was dented. But it was intact. "Better now that you're here," she added with a wink.

Jessie _was_ particularly good at winks, and Cloud did his best to ignore it. "You can walk?" he asked, and vaguely gestured towards her ankle.

"Definitely," she promised. "Don't worry about me. Besides, if I couldn't walk, you'd be the first to know."

Cloud frowned. _Why would I..._

"Hey!" Barret shouted. He waved at them from the platform above; somehow, he had gotten separated when the platform had broken. "You guys good!?"

"Barret!" Jessie called, her expression breaking out in a smile. "Yeah, we're good! You?"

"Hell yeah I'm okay! Nothin' can take me out. But anyway! We'll link up over there!" Barret pointed to a door opposite of the one they entered from, as their original entrance had been blocked off by falling debris. "SOLDIER-boy, you look after Jessie!"

Cloud nodded, not entirely trusting his voice.

"Let's hurry," Jessie told him. Cloud was content to follow her; he didn't trust his own senses, not with him seeing things, and simply listened to her as she continued, "This route should lead us straight to Barret." She slid down a ladder, Cloud right behind her. "Well…" She began to run across a thin maintenance platform, one that hugged the inner walls of the reactor. "Probably!"

"Probably?" Cloud echoed. The mako taste didn't seem as strong anymore, but he couldn't tell if it was because the air was clearing or if he was just getting used to it.

"Well… most likely!" Jessie bit her lip as she jumped off the maintenance platform to another level, then began climbing a ladder to a far larger platform above them. "Just… don't look behind you! We have to move! We gotta _go!_ Because we - we don't want to be still here when it goes off!"

Somewhere between one platform to the next, one rumbling explosion to the other, it occurred to Cloud that Jessie was freaking out. And that maybe he should say something about it. Try to make her feel better. But he wasn't good at making people feel better, or comforting, or... anything like that.

"Are you… okay?" he eventually settled on when they reached the larger platform.

Jessie ran towards the next ladder without bothering to glance back at him, which had him deflating slightly. "Yes! Sorry! When I'm stressed, I talk! It keeps me focussed! I'll freak out if I don't talk!"

The exact opposite was true for him, but... "You do you," he replied.

"I will! Now lets go!" She hurried up the ladder, at times skipping entire rungs. "We're running out of time!"

At the top of the ladder was Barret, and his expression broke out into a grin when he noticed Jessie and Cloud rushing towards him. "You made it!" he shouted. Several infantrymen were lying unconscious on the ground around him, along with a few downed Monodrives – several that immediately disintegrated the moment Cloud's gaze landed on them. "And took your damn sweet time, too! I had'ta kill these things off all by myself! And that was supposed'ta be _your_ job, merc!"

Cloud shrugged.

"But anyway! Let's getta move on!" Barret was already running towards the opposite door, his footsteps heavy against the metal floor. "Times a'wastin'! Only six more minutes!"

Jessie squeaked. _"Six minutes?"_

"My bad," Cloud muttered.

"My bad?" Jessie shot him an aghast look, even as she ran. "What do you mean, _my bad?_ "

Heat touched Cloud's cheeks, and he again shrugged.

They continued to run through the hallway until they reached another room – a mech storage area. The Sweepers, which bulky mechs that breathed fire from their piston-like appendages, were neatly parked along the walls. All of the lights were shut off. Not even the emergency lighting flickered along the floor, and the place felt eerily quite and empty. Like, at any moment, the Sweepers could all turn on and shoot them dead in seconds.

The thought set Cloud's teeth on edge as he followed Barret through the room, and his hand never strayed far from his gunblade.

"Biggs must've shut the place down while we were in the reactor," Barret mused as they turned the corner.

"Thank god." Jessie shot the mechs a worried glance. "Fighting one would be the _last_ thing we need right now!"

Cloud wordlessly agreed, and only minutely relaxed when they exited the mech containment center and were hurrying through another warehouse – this one stacked with boxes. Like the mech facility, this one was similarly empty and dark.

"This strike you as kinda creepy?" Barret asked as they began ran up the staircase, their footsteps strikingly loud in the otherwise silent room. "I mean, there're no Monodrives, no soliders, no _nothin'."_

"I hope this is Biggs' work," Jessie said, in a tone that indicated that she didn't believe that at all. "Cloud, you think Biggs did this?"

Cloud shrugged.

Barret shot him a look as they rounded the corner and entered another room. "Have you gone mute, SOLDIER-boy?" This room looked like the security bay, and the rectangle-shaped cell was divided by a cracked glass pane. One half was full of monitoring equipment with lots of unlit buttons, while the other half was devoid of any decoration. There was an elevator at the far end of the room. "Hit your word quota for th' day something?"

"No," Cloud deadpanned.

Jessie hit the _up_ button on the elevator, and bounced on the balls of her feet as she waited for it. "How much more time do we have left?"

"Eh, five minutes?" Barret said. They piled inside the elevators the moment the doors slid open, and soon they were slowly rattle upwards.

Cloud leaned against the wall, grateful for the brief rest. "More like one," he muttered.

Jessie looked at him, wide-eyed. _"One?!"_ Her voice was high-pitched. "Are you _shitting_ me right now?"

* * *

In a different part of Midgar, on the highest level of Shinra Headquarters, the President ordered the destruction of Mako Reactor One.

* * *

During the elevator's upward struggle, Barret had begun to pace the elevator doors, rapidly becoming more and more impatient. "Shit!" he finally shouted, causing Jessie to jump. "Can't this thing go any fa -"

A sudden explosion, far more powerful than any prior, shook the elevator. The elevator rocked back and forth as the lights flickered, threatening to die and bask them all in darkness, and the metal walls groaned with the force of the blast. Red sparks rained to the floor. Barret cursed again as he threw his arms out, trying to regain his balance, as Jessie clung to the wall and squeezed her eyes shut, muttering something under her breath, but the words were drowned out as an alarm began to blare. Seconds later the elevator went dark, only for the emergency lights to flicker on moments later and bask the room in pulsing red.

"Ah, no, no, _no!_ " Barret turned to the display screen, wide-eyed, only to sharply exhale when he noticed that the _up_ arrow continued to flash. His hand tightened into a fist. "Come on, come on, come _on_!"

"Think we're gonna make it?" Jessie murmured.

Cloud had nearly fallen over from the blast, but a quick hand splayed against elevator wall managed to keep him upright. He blinked away the stars in his eyes, and managed a small smile at her, hoping to be reassuring. "Yeah."

"How do you know?" Jessie's eyes were wide, the white of her sclera clearly visible. "It's just that, like, the explosion was way stronger than the bomb should have been, so -"

"It'll be... It'll be okay," Cloud interrupted. "We're fine."

"An' besides, we're almost at the exit," Barret added, sparing him from saying anything else. The red lights highlighted the sharp edges of his face. "And then we'll meet up with Biggs and Wedge, so don't you worry, Jess. SOLDIER-boy here is right. We're just fine."

Jessie managed a small smile. "Right. Sorry. I panicked." She humorlessly chuckled as she leaned against the wall, her gaze pinned to the floor. "The shaking elevator got to me. You know… small, enclosed spaces that can easily combust just... aren't my favorite."

"Me neither," Cloud murmured.

Barret shot him an odd look just as the doors slid open, revealing another room – one that was empty, with the exception of another door. It appeared to be locked by a computer terminal, and Jessie hurried to the computer beside the door and began to type. Her typing wasn't as fast as Biggs, but even so, her fingers were a blur against the monitor.

"Just gotta do what Biggs said," she was mumbling to herself. "Just gotta do it like this, and this, and… and there!" Jessie grinned as the doors slid open, just as the room was once again rocked by a heavy explosion. "That worked! I can't believe that worked!"

Barret patted her on the back, grinning even as he walked past her. "I can," he said, just as the ground shuddered with another blast.

Everyone stumbled backwards at the floor's harsh shuddering, but it wasn't the explosion that left Cloud dazed. The moment the doors had slid open, the harsh scent of mako hit Cloud like a truck. Like a bullet to the chest, and he had nearly stumbled backwards at the sheer intensity of it, at his body's sharp recoil. The doors led to the maintenance platforms that spiderwebbed over the main reactor cavern, and now they were overwhelmed with smoke and fumes from the burning engine. The smoke was so thick that Cloud couldn't even see the far wall, and the walls that he _could_ see were overwhelmed with green flame.

But if he wanted to get out of here, he knew that he had to walk through that.

The thought filled him with dread.

"Damn!" Barret shouted once the worst of the shaking had subsided. "Let's _go,_ people! We don't have a lot of time here!"

"I don't think we have _any_ time!" Jessie cried as she followed Barret out the door.

Barret turned back to the main group. "Hold your breath in the smoke!"

"Yes, sir!" came Jessie's immediate reply, and the two of them disappeared into the churning black.

Cloud was the last to enter, and inhaled as lightly as possible before walking through the smoke. His lips felt sticky from the humidity and his eyes burned as squinted through the thick haze, haze that was rapidly shifting from a dark gray to almost green as the mako in his eyes flared. Maybe they had become slitted as well...

Suddenly he heard a loud gasp. "Made it!" Barret shouted from somewhere in the gloom.

Barret didn't sound very far away either, which sparked a bit of hope in Cloud. Already his lungs were burning - he should have taken a deeper breath - but then he was stepping out of the smoke as well, his eyes bloodshot and blinking.

A hand suddenly grabbed his arm. "Got you!" Jessie said, coughing somewhat. Cloud glanced at her; her cheeks were dark with soot, and her eyes were bloodshot as well, but then her expression shifted. "Cloud, your _eyes..."_

"Mako," Cloud immediately replied.

Jessie let his arm go, blinking. "R - Right."

"Shit, let's go!" Barret shouted at them. He waved them down the wide corridor he had entered, and his sunglasses reflected the green flames behind them. "We ain't got the time!"

"Right behind you!" Jessie said, already running towards him.

Cloud, after shaking his head as if to clear it, quickly followed.

Another explosion rang out behind them, and basked the world in green.

* * *

Heidegger stared at the computer monitors, stunned. Not only had the sewer rats defeated the Scorpion Sentinel, but they had even managed to escape. He didn't know how they did it. Didn't know how they had disabled the various defense systems, didn't know why the various shock troopers hadn't deployed, didn't know why the Sweeper's offensive system hadn't been initiated. But because of those series of failures, the sewer rats had escaped. _All_ of them.

And then the bomb had detonated. It hadn't been a little explosion, either. Oh, no. It had been furious, a sparking inferno that had clawed out of the reactor's main cavern, cut its way through the ceiling, and then spilled into the atmosphere above and rained chaos onto the city below.

Absolute chaos.

Heidegger pinched the bridge of his nose, cursing his bad luck, when the phone suddenly rang. He was tempted to ignore it. Tempted to let it ring into oblivion, but he glanced at the caller ID anyway, just to be safe.

His blood immediately ran cold, and he quickly picked up the phone. "Sir."

 _"Heidegger,"_ President Shinra said in greeting. " _Do you know why I'm calling you?"_

Heidegger's dark gaze flicked to the computer screens. "Yes."

 _"Good. Then that will save us some time."_ A pause. _"That reactor is a monument to your failure tonight, and Shinra does_ not _tolerate failure."_ Another pause, a lengthier one, and within it Heidegger could hear everything that the President didn't say. Didn't _have_ to say. _"Rebuilding Mako Reactor One will come out of your department's budget,"_ President Shinra continued. " _Understand?"_

Heidegger clenched his jaw. "I understand."

Another lengthy silence followed. " _Perhaps we can turn this into an opportunity,"_ the President finally said. _"Something that Shinra can build off of."_

"An opportunity, sir?" Heidegger repeated, but the screen had already gone black.

And he stared at the phone long after the President had hung up.

* * *

The upper Sector Eight train station was surprisingly crowded. There were far more people than Zack had been expecting, but it didn't necessarily bother him. He enjoyed the business. The chaos of the city. It was easy to get lost in, to get swept away by the _otherness_ of it all, and let himself get taken up by the city's twisting, turbulent emotions.

But he couldn't afford to get lost in the Midgar's undercurrent tonight. Not at all. He had a job to do; a mission of sorts. Somewhere in Sector Eight was Aerith, selling her flowers like she had promised, and her words once again bounced around in his head:

_I have a feeling that something big is going to happen there._

The memory made him scowl as he flicked his bright eyes across the train station, but he quickly moved on when he didn't spot his favorite flower girl. Soon his footsteps echoed down the station's stairs and onto the bustling street below, where the roads were lit gold by streetlights. Cheerful neon signs advertised shops, restaurants, hotels, and theaters. He ignored all of it, and it passed by as a colorful blur.

 _Where is she,_ he thought as his gaze flitted from street corner to street corner, from crowd to crowd, from sign to sign. A strange sense of urgency propelled his steps, made him move a little quicker than the crowd, but he forced himself to slow. To blend in. He was near Shinra Headquarters after all, and he wouldn't say he was _paranoid,_ exactly, but he didn't want to attract attention from anyone right now.

No - the moment the thought crossed his mind, he took it right back. He wasn't just a little paranoid. He was paranoid as all hell, and he found himself searching for more than just Aerith in the crowd. More than once, someone wearing a white trench coat made his breath catch.

 _Everything is fine,_ he told himself as he shoved his hands into his pockets. _Calm down. No one's out to get you._

A blatant lie, because he wouldn't be in this situation if that were true.

His muscles tensed further as his bright gaze scanned the top of the crowd; as he was a bit on the tall side, he had no trouble seeing in all directions. It comforted him a bit, but what comforted him more was that there seemed to be more people than usual. It helped him blend in. Many were dressed exceptionally nicely, and some even held small pamplets - almost as if they had come from a play.

His suspicions were immediately confirmed when his eyes flicked to one of the nearby theaters. _Loveless_ was written across its front in bright, pink neon, and his gaze followed the sign's bold curves before flitting away. _Let's hope that Aerith's 'something big' is just a Loveless performance or something,_ he thought dryly. _Or just_ _Tseng being super pissed that I left without saying anything._ He grimaced. _Again._

But the moment the thought passed his mind, a huge explosion rattled the city.

Zack's eyes widened even as his SOLDIER training kicked in, instinctual, and he bent his knees and braced himself as the shockwave tore through the streets. Glass pelted the road as windows were blown out. Buildings swayed as the Sector Eight plate groaned beneath them, the thick metal base creaking from the strain, and the world was bathed in green. A startlingly familiar shade of green, and he was turning to the reactor just to see the last of the explosion claw out of the Sector One Reactor with striking emerald flames and thick, black smoke.

 _Holy shit._ Zack's mind flashing back to his conversation with Reno and Rude in the car. Back then, he had told Reno and Rude that blowing up the reactor was a suicide mission. That it was impossible. _But Avalanche really did it,_ he thought, lips parted in shock. He slowly stood to his full height even as fires, ignited by sparks from the carnage, roared around him and stained his stricken expression with shades of red. Car alarms blared. People were screaming. Someone was crying, hit from above by falling concrete. Yet the reactor continued to spit out flames, uncaring of what happened beneath it, and the flames scraped against the sky itself.

The smell of the explosion hit him next. It had been a long time since he had smelled the harsh scent metal and ozone, had tasted that metallic, heady, sharply sweet flavor. But he could recognize it from anywhere. _Mako,_ he realized, his hand pressed against his mouth and nose. And not just any mako, either. Not at all. This was the scent of concentrated mako, fresh and raw, the sort that had been recently dredged out of the Planet instead of the refined, processed sort that powered the city. He knew the difference. After all, Hojo had preferred his mako raw. It was… _purer,_ that way. The results were more immediate.

Zack gagged, unable to help himself, and images flickered across his eyes. They were old memories, memories better left forgotten, memories that had his fingers tapping invisible walls and his lips soundlessly sounding out a familiar name. For a moment, he had almost lost himself in them. Had almost let the haunted recollections grab him with its claws and drag him down, until he would become buried by it, until he thought that he would never be able to breathe again.

Then he remembered Aerith. Remembered her smile. Her words, once a theory, now a premonition:

_Something big may happen there._

And it was sure as hell not a Loveless play.

"Shit," he gasped as the fires roared around him. God, he was so _stupid._ He should have seen this coming. Should have connected the dots, but it was too late for that now. Screams surrounded him, cars were on fire, children were crying. At one point of his life, he might have tried to save them. He might have tried to help them all, even though he knew that there were too many, even though he _knew_ that he couldn't help them all.

But that time had long since passed, and in the time since, he had come to learn that he was only one person. That he only had two hands - two small, tiny hands that could barely hold on to the two people he cared about the most. One of the two had gone missing in Midgar. And the other was here, alone, possibly hurt from the explosion. What if she got away from him too?

Zack sucked in breath and pivoted on his heel, not even glancing towards the other people on the street. _Where is she?_ his thoughts pounded as he sprinted through the strets, his luminous gaze scanning the roads, the broken shops, the cracked concrete, the streetlights that had snapped in half. Aerith was around here somewhere, and he knew that she would be close, near the taller buildings in the city's center instead of the smaller homes that ran along the plates edges. After all, the taller buildings would block out more of the sky, and she didn't like the sky. She was afraid of it, and he knew because during their entire conversation in the church, she hadn't looked up towards the broken rafters to the blue sky peaking above it. Not even once.

He had a feeling that she would like it even less after this.

His throat constricted, but he was unsure whether it was from his growing anxiety or the harsh taste of mako in the air. Not that it really mattered. He tore through the roads, his bright eyes flicking from smoldering building to crumbling rooftops to the people, some shell-shocked as they stood upright and watched the green flames plume over the city, some lying in the road unmoving.

He grit his teeth and tore his gaze away, his heart a harsh staccato beating against his ribcage.

He _would_ find her. He _had_ to, because there was just... just no other option. Anything else besides finding her safe and sound was unacceptable, because he couldn't lose he too. He couldn't. Not now. Not after he had lost so much. Losing her was... was an impossibility. It couldn't happen, because if the impossible _did_ happen, and he _did_ find her but she was hurt and dead or something... he wasn't sure that he could survive it.

In fact, he knew he wouldn't.

But all he could do right now was run.

* * *

Tseng leaned against the wall, his dark gaze pinned on the world outside of the window. Instead of seeing a patchwork of quiet city streets beneath him, he saw chaos, terror, and the occasional death. If he dragged his eyes upward, he saw that the stars were not blocked out by the perpetual haze that lingered in Midgar's atmosphere, but instead had been choked out by green-tinged smoke and flames. Flames that, even now, billowed out the destroyed Mako Reactor One.

It was an impressive thing to look at. It even stirred some sort of emotion in his chest, a rare thing indeed, though he wasn't entirely sure what emotion it was. All he recgonized was a tight sort of feeling in his chest _._ Like his clothes were a size too small, though he knew that they were tailored to his exact proportions, and the distance, dancing fire reflected in his dark eyes when he gazed out the window once again. He could almost see faces within the shifting flames. Tormented faces with drooping eyes and yawning, unearthly screams that he could not hear, but could all too easily imagine.

His arms tightened across his chest. _And whose fault is that?_ his thoughts accused. The answer came easily enough: It was the Turks fault, and therefore, his error. His sin. _I failed,_ he knew because despite Avalanche being the Turk's mission, they had managed to blow up a reactor against all odds And not just a little explosion either, which their intelligence had predicted. It had been a _massive_ explosion. The bomb must have been either extraordinarily powerful – which was doubtful, considering the shopping list Fair had put together from the receipts – or the size of a truck, which was equally unlikely.

Not that it mattered anymore. In the end, the bomb had been planted, and it had gone off in the worst possible way. He could _see_ the debris raining onto Sector Eight and One, could see smoldering fragments of the reactor smash through roofs and light the buildings on fire. The destruction was almost… impressive, in a terrible sort of way, and Tseng was no stranger to war or chaos. But it was one thing to see it happen on during missions. It was quite another to have it happen at home.

Tseng exhaled, faint and light, and his breath fogged the window. _The Turks failed,_ his mind repeated. _I failed._ Their informal motto was that no mission was impossible for the Turks, and now he had the urge to ament that - that anything was possible, really, because they were only people, and people could make fatal miscalculations. He had even known about the reactor bombing mission ahead of time, and he _still_ was unable to put a stop to it.

Of course, one could argue that Shinra itself seemed to be conspiring against them. Heidegger in particular, the department head of Public Security, actively worked against the Turks and withheld vital information, and even the _President,_ who _owned_ the Turks directly, provided little to no aid on the political side. One could argue further that it _almost_ looked like the Turks were being set up to fail. In fact, it appeared to be almost likely.

But Tseng tried not to entertain those thoughts. It was not fitting of the Turks, and especially not for him.

His phone suddenly began buzzing in his pocket, distracting him, and his eyes flicked to the screen before answering.

"Vice-President," he said in greeting.

_"I told you before, Tseng. In private, just Rufus is fine."_

"My apologies."

 _"Forgotten."_ A pause, one punctuated by the deep breathing of a Shinra mutt - undoubtedly Rufus' trusted companion, Darkstar. _"I trust that you've already noticed Mako Reactor One?"_

Tseng's expression hardened, and he glanced back to the window. "Yes."

 _"Avalanche put on quite a show for us,"_ Rufus said humorlessly.

But Tseng wasn't interested in small talk. "What are our orders, sir?"

 _"Ah, yes. Orders."_ Rufus murmured something to Darkstar, who whined in reply. _"This is my order, so listen carefully."_ Tseng involuntarily straightened, then: _"Do nothing."_

Tseng didn't consider himself easily surprised, but this had him blinking at the wall. "I'm sorry?"

 _"Do nothing about Avalanche, Tseng,"_ Rufus continued, _"and order the rest of your Turks to do the same. This failure rests on Heidegger's shoulders, and it is Heidegger's responsibility to clean it up."_ A pause followed, and Rufus must have noticed Tseng's silent question, because he continued, _"Heidegger failed to alert the Turks the moment the Avalanche members had infiltrated the reactor, and then failed to capture them before and after they had planted the bomb."_

Tseng closed his eyes, a headache threatening to pulse between his eyes.

 _"In light of that development, the President sees this failure belonging solely to Heidegger. Therefore,"_ Rufus added, his tone brightening a fraction, _"we will do nothing and let the head of Public Security implode on his own. Then it'll be our… chance_. _Do you u_ _nderstand?"_

Tseng could hear the smile, the smirk, in Rufus' tone, and he didn't need the Vice-President of Shinra to explain what this so-called _chance_ was. He already knew what Rufus wanted. What Rufus wanted more than anything.

He turned back to the window, at the city burning beneath him. _Do nothing,_ Rufus had ordered.

"I understand," Tseng said.

 _"Good."_ Tseng could hear typing on the other end of the receiver, then Rugus continued, _"I'm sent you an image from Mako Reactor One's security cameras. It includes two men from Avalanche, both of whom took out a Scorpion Sentinel."_

Tseng briefly glanced at his phone, confirming that the message was received. _The Scorpion Sentinel…_ That had been one of Hojo's creations, and had gifted the concept to Heidegger in return for use of his infantrymen for... experimentation. It was something of an open secret amongst the higher brass.

"Impressive," Tseng finally said. "Though I don't understand..."

 _"Heidegger believes that one of them is a runaway SOLDIER,"_ Rufus interrupted, _"and while that would usually fall under the jurisdiction of Public Security, the President decided that the Turks would handle the job instead due to that department's… recent failures."_

But Tseng's attention had snagged at the word _SOLDIER. And a runaway SOLDIER at that..._ His lips twitched into a frown. It couldn't have been Fair, as he was safely in Turk hands. Strife was also crossed off the list, as the man was neither a SOLDIER nor fit to perform any sort of strenuous activities due to his advanced mako poisoning.

_But then... who?_

"I'll take a look," Tseng promised.

 _"Do that,"_ Rufus replied. _"We can't have another repeat Sephiroth episode. Rebuilding one backwater town was enough; we can't afford to do another."_ Tseng privately knew that there wasn't a thing Shinra _couldn't_ afford, but wisely refrained from commenting. _"Alert me with any updates_."

"Of course, Rufus."

With that, the two hung up and Tseng was immediately opening the message Rufus had sent.

What he saw made his eyes widen. The photo was grainy and clogged with smoke and condensation, but the two men frozen within the image were clearly defined. The first, a dark-skinned male with a large build and a grafted gunarm, was someone Tseng recognized from the Turks' _Likely Suspect_ list. As for the other…

_Strife?_

Tseng squinted at the photograph. _But that's... that's not possible._ Yet there Cloud Strife was in the security image, defying him. The same Cloud Strife that had been the mako-poisoned, confused, frail infantryman that, according to Fair's report, had been in and out of a coma-like state for nearly five years. The same Cloud Strife that Cissnei had to drag into her helicopter because he was too weak to walk and couldn't understand what was happening anyway. The same Cloud Strife that had, against all odds, run out of the hospital despite being in a delirious daze.

It was _that_ Cloud Strife that was pointing a blade at the Scorpion Sentinel, and he had apparently done quite a bit of damage to the Scorpion Sentinel as well. Long, streaking cuts criss-crossed the sentinel's metal plating, and one of its legs looked as if it had been hacked off with the edge of a blade. A blade that Strife appeared to be holding quite tightly in the image.

Tseng's lips twitched into a smirk. _I might have underestimated him,_ he thought, and to say that he was _surprised_ was an understatement. He was stunned speechless, and not only because Strife was up and walking again. He was stunned because apparently Strife feeling well enough to join Avalanche, the eco-terrorist group that had been plaguing both Shinra, and go around Midgar blowing up reactors.

 _... Damn._ Tseng's eyes flicked across the scene; from the other man that was howling at the sentinel, to Cloud, his body twisted mid-air as he jumped over a barrage of bullets, to the sentinel itself. How did Strife even come in contact with Avalanche? And how did this occur so quickly - it hadn't even been a week since Strife had escaped the hospital.

But then Tseng noticed Cloud's eyes.

They were a startling shade of green, a far more potent shade than any 'natural' SOLDIER - if there was such a thing. But that's not what made Tseng pause.

Strife's eyes were also slitted.

In fact, his eyes looked eerily similar to Sephiroth's, and the room seemed to chill several degrees.

Tseng pinched the bridge of his nose as the full reality of the situation began to sink in. As his mind began to wrap up the pieces that had rapidly begun to unravel, and to sort it neatly in his mind. To summarize, not only was Cloud working for Avalanche – _which was now Heidegger's mission,_ Tseng reminded himself – but if Rufus had access to this screenshot, then undoubtedly Heidegger did as well. i

_And if Heidegger knows about it…_

That meant all those of equal stature to Heidegger, such the other executives of Shinra, _also_ had access to the image. That included Scarlet. Reeve Tuesti. Palmer.

_… Hojo._

" _Kuso_ ," Tseng quietly cursed, the strain causing him to slip back into his native tongue. This was just about the worst-case scenario for both Strife _and_ Fair. Their existence was supposed to be a secret within the Turks, but now... now that time had passed. The secret was out, and if it wasn't out yet, it would be soon. Because the moment Hojo realized that Strife was alive, Tseng had no doubt that the mad scientist would easily connect to dots. He would _know_ that Fair had survived the infantry attack as well... and Tseng wasn't so much of an optimist as to believe that Hojo wouldn't want the his old experiments back.

Tseng slowly exhaled. _But we haven't arrived at that conclusion yet,_ he reminded himself. There was still time to salvage the situation. Still enough time to avoid a catastrophe.

So he immediately began to flick through his Turk contacts. Cissnei was currently on the Wutai mission, so he mentally marked her off of the list. Elena was too new and couldn't be trusted to handle a case as sensitive as this one, so she was out, and Tseng himself was far too noticeable - if he disappeared for hours at a time, it would be noted. Which left Reno and Rude.

Rude picked up the phone before the second ring. _"Sir?"_

"Rude, I have new orders for you and Reno," Tseng began, not being one for niceties. "Find Zack, and be discrete about it. He should be in the Turk lodging area."

_"And where should we take him?"_

"The Sector Six slums." Tseng closed his eyes, mentally flicking through a map of Midgar. "Wall Market. I trust you know where that is."

Wall Market was the dark shadow of the city, and thrived on a rich supply of coin, debauchery, and pleasure. Anything could be found there at a price, _especially_ if it was illegal. Even Shinra's police had learned to stay well away from it, which meant that it was the perfect place to hide someone that didn't want to be found.

An offended huff echoed through the speaker. _"Reno does."_

Tseng could here Reno's indignant shout, but ignored it. "Good. Have Zack lodge there for a few days, as the upper plates will not be safe for him going forward. We may have to extend his stay going forward."

_"Does this have anything to do with the reactor bombing?"_

"Yes." Tseng glanced back at the window, to the green smoke clawing its way to the upper atmosphere. "Strife was involved in the bombing," - Rude made a surprised sound, "-and the security footage will soon be circulating among the Shinra executives. It won't take Hojo long to connect Strife to Fair, and Fair cannot be anywhere near Shinra Headquarters when that happens."

 _"What are we gonna do about Strife?"_ Reno asked, his voice muffled. _"Find 'im?"_

"Strife will have to make do on his own."

_"Huh?"_

"We are secretly sheltering Fair, and that places us in a very precarious position – one that we cannot risk for a single infantryman."

 _"Zack's gonna be pissed,"_ Reno pointed out. " _You know that, right?"_

"I'm aware."

 _"No, like, he's gonna be_ super _pissed, like you -"_

 _"We understand,"_ Rude suddenly cut in, much to Reno's outrage. _"We'll go collect Zack and bring him to Wall Market."_

"See that you do," Tseng said. "And if you do happen run into Strife, do not engage. He's currently considered a threat."

 _"That scrawny guy?"_ Reno said, having to shout to make his voice heard through the phone. _"He ain't a threat to anyone. I could take him."_

"That 'scrawny guy' took out the Scorpion Sentinel stationed at Mako Reactor One," Tseng stated.

His words had an immediate effect. There was a lengthy pause, then Reno murmured, " _No fuckin' way."_

 _"Are you certain?"_ Rude added.

Tseng didn't even bother answering that question. "Collect Fair and take him to Wall Market," Tseng repeated. "Get it done by tonight."

 _"Yes, sir,"_ the two Turks said in unison.

With that, the call ended and Tseng sighed before leaning against the wall, his back to the window… and the carnage rolling beyond its glass.

"Damn," he murmured.

He couldn't remember the last time he had ever felt so tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Cloud's really going through it in these chapters... mako poisoning is no joke. Also, Zack is back! I know I'm the author and this is entirely my fault, but I missed him in the last chapter lol
> 
> But anyway, things are beginning to pick up speed on the Shinra side! Admittedly, I'm straying from the canon a bit here (well, more than I already have lol) because in the canon story, Heidegger is the one who - on the President's orders - destroyed Mako Reactor One. I changed that simply because I think it'll be interesting to have some more drama in the Shinra hierarchy. Plus it'll be fun to write.
> 
> Anyway, the next chapter will be posted on Friday, June 17th! I haven't even started writing it yet, but according to my chapter outline, it's going to be a long one... longer than usual anyway. Why do I do this to myself?
> 
> Until next Friday: Stay well, stay safe, and I wish you all the best :)


	15. Hellos and Goodbyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! I hope you all had a good and safe week, and thank you again for your kudos, subscriptions, and reviews!
> 
> Before the chapter begins, I just want everyone to know that this chapter took me a full seven days to write, two full days to edit, and I ruined it all by completely changing the ending the day before publishing.
> 
> Enjoy :)

"Looks like we made it." Barret's voice echoed in the maintenance tunnel, loud and pleased. "And with nothin' but a few scratches an' bruises to show for it."

The lights flickered as Barret spoke, and Cloud blinked his eyes against it. Pipes rattled against the walls with every rumbling aftershock. Gritty clouds rained from the ceiling and choked the air that had already been saturated with mako, and a thin film of dust covered Barret's sunglasses as he glanced over the Avalanche team. The _entire_ team, as they had reunited with Biggs and Wedge on the other side of the platform.

"All in all," he continued, "I'd call that a su -"

Without warning, another aftershock tore through the tunnel and caused Barret's statement to end with an abrupt, startled shout. Cloud threw his arms out in an attempt to steady himself as the tunnel swayed; a piece of concrete snapped off of the ceiling and cracked against the ground, and sparks scattered down from the broken light bulb above them.

Barret shot Jessie a dry look as the rumbling faded. "Think you've overdone it?" he asked.

"No way." Jessie dusted her hands against her pants, frowning. "I followed those instructions to the letter. My ingredients were _exact._ But... well..." She worried her lower lip. "Maybe the bomb triggered a reaction with the mako? But I didn't think that mako was very sensitive to heat..."

Biggs placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed, gently. "Don't worry about that now. I'm sure your recipe was perfect."

"I just hope the city is still in one piece," Barret muttered.

"I'm sure it's fine." Wedge's gaze flicked between Barret and Jessie; Barret, who wore a dark expression, and Jessie who didn't meet his gaze. "Like, Jessie, you've always been really good at bombs and stuff, right? So like, I'm sure you got this one right too."

"But if something _did_ go wrong," Biggs added, "and the bomb was a little stronger than you meant it to be, the Planet is what really matters. Right?" He smiled at Jessie, who hesitantly returned the expression... only for her grin to falter as another blast rattled the tunnel. Concrete walls cracked and groaned under the strain. Lights swayed above them.

And then it was over, just as quickly as it had come.

"I mean," Biggs continued, his tone cautious as he glanced around the tunnel, "this must have helped _some._ "

Jessie glanced at the ceiling – at the long, fresh crack running through it. "After what we went through," she said, frowning, "I hope so."

"This is a good talk and all, but we should get going now." Wedge was watching the ceiling, particularly the crack running down its length, with an untrusting stare. "This place is going to come down any second."

"And I don't want to be here when it does," Biggs agreed.

"Right." Wedge glanced at the ceiling once more before turning down the tunnel, and into the dark gloom beyond. "Well, let's go. Sector Eight is this way."

"Lead the way," Barret ordered.

And Wedge did, and Cloud trailed the team as they continued to head deeper into the maintenance tunnel. He could hear the distant rumble of explosions. The crack of concrete and harsh metallic groan as support beams strained beneath their uneven, unbalanced weight. He tried not to think about it... but as the long night wore on, _not thinking_ became easier and easier.

"Watch out for live wires," Wedge called from somewhere in front of him. "They're _everywhere._ "

The lights flickered in a bright, uneven strobe as they walked, and had Cloud blinking against its overlapping visage as he flicked his gaze up. Sure enough, thick, black coils dangled from the cracked ceiling like vines. They snapped and crackled with electricity, and their irregular sparking lit up the crude graffiti on the wall in short flashes.

Biggs wrinkled his nose. "Ugh, the air in here reeks." He glanced at the thick pipes that snaked along the wall in accusation, as if they were to blame. Maybe they were. "Can't _wait_ to get out of here."

"Into what?" Jessie deadpanned. "The crisp, fresh Midgar air?"

"Well... anything would be better than here!"

Cloud glanced at his hands. The leather gloves still slick from the dewey mako on the ladder rungs, and if he pinched his fingers together, he could feel them briefly stick together before he pulled them apart. The sight of it had him frowning. _D_ _on't think... think that's true,_ his mind finally churned out.

"I mean, _man_ , what the hell is that?" Biggs continued, loudly sniffing. "I've never smelled anything so foul."

Jessie laughed. " _That_ would be you."

"No way."

"Nah, Jessie's right," Wedge grinned. "It's _definitely_ you, bro. You _reek_."

"Damn." Biggs's cheeks reddened as he dryly chuckled. "I gotta do something about that then. And soon."

Without warning, another explosion rippled through the tunnel. Cloud didn't even react, even as the rest of the team fought to maintain their balance as the ground shook and rolled beneath them. The ceiling loudly cracked again and another piece of concrete – this one massive in size - fell heavily onto the ground, knocking up a thick cloud of dust in the process.

"Ugh," Wedge groaned when the world stopped rolling around them. "I felt that one in my _guts._ "

But Cloud hardly felt anything at all. The smoldering heat of adrenaline, which had previously burned so hot in his veins that it had been borderline painful, had faded into dim coals during their walk. The burning fear had chilled. The squirming anxiety in his chest had stilled, and it left him feeling strangely… numb. Empty. Cold.

"They just keep on comin'," Biggs muttered.

Barret harshly sighed. "Come on. We need'ta get outta this place... 'Ey, merc!" Cloud instinctively jerked his head up. "Keep up, understand?"

Cloud's brow furrowed as his mind wrapped around the question. "Yeah?"

Barret watched him for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before huffing and turning away. "Good!" he loudly called. "So hurry the hell up!"

"I just don't understand how the explosion could have been so big," Jessie murmured, having been too deep in her head to have heard Barret and Cloud's brief conversation. She ducked beneath a thick concrete slab, hardly noticing it as she scowled at her feet. "Was it the mako density? The primary explosive? Or maybe... maybe the blasting agent was defective?"

"We'll worry about it later," Biggs told her as he ducked underneath the same concrete slab. "I mean, your pharmacy contact could have just sold you the wrong chemical."

But Jessie was shaking her head even before Biggs had finished. "No, he didn't. I double checked – it was pure hydrogen peroxide, which is exactly what the recipe called for." She bit her lip. "Maybe... Did I do my calculations wrong?"

"Nah," Wedge said, glancing at her from over his shoulder. "I double checked them, remember?"

"And we can figure it out later!" Barret loudly told them. "For now, let's just focus on getting the hell out of here!"

Jessie sighed. "Fine. How much farther do we have to go, anyway?"

Wedge made a sound low in his throat. "Not far," he promised as they turned a corner, one lined with black and yellow caution tape. A door was just on the other side, one made of thick steel. It was also locked up tight the old fashioned way; with an actual, physical lock instead of security monitors, digital passcodes, ID verification, or other required credentials. All it needed was a plain key... one that they pointedly did not have.

"Oh, thank the gods," Jessie muttered as she moved to kneel knelt in front of the door. "Good thing I packed an extra bomb."

Barret frowned over her shoulder. "Uh, we sure planting another bomb is a good idea?"

"Relax, silly. It's a much smaller bomb." Jessie waved off his concern. "I only used a quarter of the ingredients that the main bomb used."

"The mako fumes in here won't set it off or nothin'?"

Jessie paused at that. "Well... it shouldn't."

"That ain't exactly _comforting._ "

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Biggs said as he stood a good distance away. "I trust you, Jessie."

"Me too," said Wedge, who stood even further away than Biggs was.

Jessie scowled at the both of them. "Hah, hah." She placed the bomb, shaped as a small black box, against the doo before tapping away at its small screen. "All right," she murmured to herself before standing up, wiping some sweat from her brow. "Get back."

No one needed to be told twice. Not even Cloud, who had perked up considerably at the mere mention of another bomb. He joined the others behind some rubble as Jessie mouthed a countdown.

Precisely ten seconds later, a small explosion rang through the tunnel and the door was blasted off of its hinges. It clattered a good distance away, smoking and charred, its solid metal plating bent and dented.

Jessie hummed, clearly pleased. "That should do it."

Cloud coughed a bit on all of the smoke and dust in the air, and Biggs waved the gritty ash away as he crept forward, making sure that there was nothing else that could go off. Seeing nothing, he shot Jessie a smile and said, "You sure showed those doors."

She beamed at him. "Let that be a lesson for anything that stands in my way."

The door, now scrap metal, opened up into an alley on topside Sector Eight... and the first thing Cloud noticed was the flickering, scarlet firelight. Everywhere he looked was touched by that hellish red glow, and the flames danced on rooftops and climbed up walls, consuming everything in its path in raw, feral destruction. Smoke was belched into the air in thick clouds, clouds that had the his throat closing and bloodshot eyes smarting.

"Damn," Barret murmured.

Directly in front of the team was a building, half collapsed and falling apart. Broken bricks waterfalled down its face while its metal beams, originally part of the internal support of the original structure, had become deformed from the heat. Now it looked like a skeletal piece of artwork, twisted and broken and bent in all of the wrong ways, and made Cloud shiver to look at. He quickly tore his gaze away and his eyes followed the flames upward, over the ruined remained of Sector Eight's city, through the snowing ash, and eventually coming to rest on the hollowed-out Mako Reactor One itself. The reactor's roof had been blown out, and the torn, peeled metal now resembled something like a blooming rose.

But real roses were beautiful and soft and smelled sweet. This metal rose looked jagged, smelled of smoke and metal, and spewed thick green-tinged smoke to the dark sky above. Standing beneath its ruins, Cloud felt small. Small and fragile, even though it had been _him_ who had set the bomb. _Him_ who had started the countdown... and he thickly swallowed, unwilling to follow that train of thought any further.

Jessie's stood beside Cloud, her body stiff and rigid, her horrified expression highlighted in shifting red light. "No... No way," she murmured.

" _Attention all citizens!"_ wailed a loudspeaker above them. Its harsh sound rose above the chaotic roaring of the city and grated against Cloud's delicate hearing, causing him to wince. _"Attention all citizens! This is an alert from the Shinra Emergency Operations Center!_ _Unidentified intruders have detonated a bomb inside of Mako Reactor One. Multiple explosions have been confirmed, as well as ongoing fires. In response, a disaster warning has been issued for Sectors One and Eight."_

Biggs took a step towards the burning fire, and his boots crunched on displaced gravel and shattered glass. "This couldn't have been us," he said hoarsly. "Could it?"

While he spoke, the loudspeaker continued to wail, " _Structures in the area are at high risk of collapse, rendering the entire sector hazardous. Repeat: Multiple explosions and ongoing fires have been reported in Sectors One and Eight, and in response, a disaster warning has been issued..."_

"But what if it was?" Wedge said, and his voice was so quiet that the loudspeaker threatened to drown him out. His stricken gaze was pinned on the main road, where a raised highway had collapsed and had crushed everything beneath it. Cloud followed Wedge's gaze, and could make out smashed cars beneath the thick concrete, their metal hulls broken and leaking black oil. He saw crushed street signs and restaurant awnings. Cracked tables and chairs broken alongside street lights and welcome signs, which was all snaked through with electrical wires in a thick, convoluted tangle. The wires sparked against the ground, and in one section, had ignited runoff oil from a smashed car.

But other things had also been crushed by the highway, smaller thing that Cloud could not so easily identify. His enhanced vision was already focussing on a particularly odd shape, which looked like two lumpy rods with something large and flat at the ends. His lips twitched into a frown as his fragmented mind tossed and turned at the image, struggled to come up with some resemblance of understanding... but then it all snapped into place, so suddenly and so clearly that Cloud took a stumbling step backward. What had been two lumpy rods were now two long legs, oddly bent in places, obviously broken. The large end was a torso flattened beneath thick slabs of concrete. The other end were shoes, and Cloud could see in startling clarity how one of the shoes had become untied. How the shoelace now dangled down the side of the worn sneaker, limp and dirty, flecked with blood.

Cloud tore his gaze away, his heart stammering in his chest.

"What's done is done," Barret said. His deep voice mingled with the flames before rising above it; a phoenix, soaring above its own ashes. "It ain't pretty, but we can't stop now. Don't forget that this was just the first reactor."

Cloud's mind stumbled across Barret's words. Struggled to put their puzzle together, even though a part of him didn't want to. Didn't want to understand.

"And the planet won't be safe until we get the rest," Barret finished. Firelight was reflected within his sunglasses' dark lenses.

Biggs thickly swallowed before turning away from the burning buildings. "Yeah…" He clenched his hand into a fist, and the knuckles were white with strain. "We always knew that this was going to get messy."

Cloud's gaze shifted to the road – to the legs, crushed and bloodied, and to the strange shapes beside it. A hand. Fingers lightly curled against the concrete. Fingernails cracked and oozing.

 _Messy,_ his mind echoed.

"And this," Wedge continued, his voice tight, "is only the beginning."

Cloud closed his eyes.

"You gotta look at the bigger picture here." Barret turned towards the main road, until his back was facing them. Firelight lit up his silhouette in a hellish halo. "Nothing worth fighting for was ever won without sacrifice," he continued, and after a lengthy pause, he sighed before turning back to the rest of his team. "Though you may not be cryin' out, I know you're in pain, just like the Planet. But that's okay, 'cause I'm here for you. To help take the load off of your shoulders." He looked at each of them in turn. "Your fears… your concerns… your worries…" Barret finally flicked his gaze to Cloud, opened his mouth as if to say something, but then abruptly closed it again. "Whatever your problem," he continued, turning back to the original Avalanche, "I got you. Always."

Wedge haltingly smiled, while Biggs and Jessie shared a warm look. Jessie even glanced at Cloud, but he didn't notice – he was too busy looking at his feet, at his shoes, at the red flickering against the leather.

He still hadn't moved past the words, _Messy._ _B_ _eginning._

 _...Sacrifice_.

"So." Biggs voice cut through the quiet. "What's the next move, boss?"

Barret grinned at that. "Easy! We gonna get our asses _home._ "

Cloud opened his eyes then, and the mako within them burned bright and hot.

"So, we're gonna split up," Barret continued. "Meet at the Sector Eight station – we're gonna get on on the last train down to the Sector Seven slums. Meet in the last freight car. Now let's _go._ "

"Yes, sir," Jessie replied and with that, she, Biggs, and Wedge began to run down the street, only to suddenly divide; Jessie moved towards the rooftops, while Biggs and Wedge took entirely different roads.

Cloud nearly made a move to follow, even if he wasn't entirely sure where he was going, when a sudden hand on his arm stopped him. Cloud instinctively shied away from the touch, only to realize that it was Barret that had grabbed him. Barret, who was now watching him with a hard, unreadable expression.

Cloud's lips twitched into a frown. "Let go," he asked. Demanded.

But Barret's gaze, and his grip, only tightened. "Listen, merc. I dunno what your problem is. I dunno what's going on in your head," he added, which had Cloud's frown deepening. "But you better make it to the train station, you hear? Tifa'll have my head if you don't make it."

It took Cloud a moment to realize what he was saying, but the moment it all pieces together in the correct order, he yanked his arm away. "I'll make it," he said. But when Barret didn't reply, only continued to stare with that strange look in his eyes, Cloud managed to add, "You don't... don't trust me?"

Barret scowled. "That's not what I ain't trusting," he said after a pause. "Jus' be there, understand? Follow the main road. The station is at th' end - you can't miss it."

Cloud turned away. "Fine."

 _"Fine,"_ Barret mockingly echoed. "We'll see, SOLDIER-boy."

"I'll... be there."

Barret huffed. "You better," he said, and with that, Avalanche's leader turned and began to hurry down the road. He made a conscious effort to angle his body in such a way that he hid his enormous gun, but then disappeared down the closest alley.

Cloud, after a heartbeat, followed Barret's order and began to make his way down the main road. He followed the meandering path even as it snaked between burning cars, collapsing buildings, and crowds of people staring wide-eyed and slack jawed at the carnage. At his left a bakery burned, and the bread inside was charred and cracked red with heat. On his right was a jewelry shop, but its gold bracelets and silver necklaces had all begun to melt off of the mannequins. Liquid metal weeped down ceramic wrists and necks.

 _"This can't be happening,"_ someone murmured as he passed.

Someone else asked, "Who _would do such a thing?"_ while another asked the gods, both known and unknown, why this had happened, why such a thing had been allowed to occur.

But at some point, all of their individual voices had blended into one within Cloud's mind. Exhaustion permeated his entire being and he could no longer tell when one scream ended and other began, where one fire skipped to the next, and the main road continued to pass by as a smear of gray and red and black. A streetlight flickered above him before dying. The ground rumbled beneath his boots. A shop suddenly exploded at his side, and Cloud instinctively raised an arm against the blast only to gasp as glass shrapnel buried itself into his skin. The many stinging wounds remained bloodless for a moment, as if his body was too shocked to bleed, before scarlet suddenly swelled from the many cuts.

And the screaming continued all the while, a steady piercing drone that ricochetted inside Cloud's skull, and he pressed his hands against his ears as she shambled forward. He had heard screams like that before. The cries of people being burned alive, and they all sounded the same: Broken. Desperate. Piercing. The cries of people knowing that death was coming but unable to do anything about it, for fire didn't care who or what it burned. It was the great equalizer. In his hometown, the mayor had burned along with the old drunkard that sat in the street corner. The officer burned beside the baker. The inn keeper burned with the maid. They had all sounded the same - every single one.

Even his mother.

He gasped as the memory, which was less of an image and more of a physical ache. One that had him reaching for the front of his turtleneck, and his fingers knotted around the dusty fabric.

 _The station…_ His mind fumbled for the words. _Is the… station... close?_

Above him was the thick bridge of the overhead railroad. Concrete spires lifted to suspend the bridge over the main road, and it was wide – wide enough to accommodate Midgar's vast railway. Seeing it made him relax, if only slightly. He quickened his stumbling pace. He had to get on the last train, had to make it to the last freight car, because everyone else would be there waiting for him. And then they could all go home.

The thought of _home_ propelled him further, even though he didn't fully remember what it meant anymore. Even though the line between Nibelheim and Tifa's apartment had become blurred, though he didn't remember when that had happened, or why.

But then something loudly cracked above him.

Cloud's gaze lifted, the mako in his eyes flaring bright, just as the railroad above him fractured and shattered. He instinctively threw himself backward as the huge slabs of concrete and metal slammed against the ground, sending both dust and fragmented concrete spiraling in all directions. He heard screams. The crunch of bones. The splatter of blood against asphalt, and when the worst of the sounds had faded, Cloud forced himself to lift his head and look. To take in what had just happened. To understand.

The railroad bridge that had passed over the main road had collapsed, and had crushed anything or anyone that had been unlucky enough to be beneath it. The resulting mountain of rubble was impassable, which meant one thing:

He couldn't use the main road to get to the station.

Cloud grimaced. _There must be… another way?_ He slowly turned towards the empty shops lining the road, blinking away the dust and smoke. _But where?_ His eyes skipped across the horrified faces around him and flicked from alley to alley, shop to shop. _Where?_ he thought again as he lifted his head.

Only for his eyes to suddenly go wide.

 _My_ … _My bedroom window?_ he thought, and then he was blinking, trying to chase the stubborn image away. That was impossible. He _knew_ that was impossible, and crazy, and unbelievable, and yet the top left window on the second floor remained the same. If he focussed, he could see where the window frame had cracked from when he had tried to do a flip on his bed and missed. He saw the familiar stain of water and dirt from an old planter. Saw the blinds, open, and the familiar SOLDIER posters hanging against the wall.

His throat tightened as he shifted his gaze, and his house flickered into focus. _All_ of it. He recognized the flowers growing in the front yard, the small path leading up to his front door, the dark timber framing set against the house's off-white paint. He also recognized the way it burned. How the flames left black char when they licked the sides of the house. The way the smoke had tasted like stone and straw.

Cloud's breath caught. _N – No._ He shook his head in absolute rejection, trying to rid himself of the image. _This... I_ _'m freaking out again,_ he decided. _This isn't_ _real. It's not -_

Something loudly cracked behind him and he spun, wide-eyed. But his eyes widened further when he saw the water tower - the same water tower that he and Tifa had sat on so long ago and made their promise. But instead of stars smearing the sky above it, there was a thick layer of black smoke. The windsock's white fabric was slowly burning, its edges hot and red, and the water barrel spit out white steam as the water within it boiled down to nothing. The towers spindly legs cracked then, and Cloud watched in horror as the entire structure groaned and toppled over. White sparks sailed into the air, and he took a step backward, his chest heaving and gasping breaths harsh and raw.

 _I'm hallucinating,_ he knew. His hands lifted to the sides of his head and his fingers tangled in his hair. _This isn't happening. I'm... I'm on the streets of Midgar, Sector Eight, heading to the train station, and -_

And then he saw a flash of silver.

It had been so quick that he had almost missed it; that long, silver hair, the glinting katana, the pearly shoulder guards, wide and polished to the point that it mirrored the wild flames around them.

But Cloud _hadn't_ missed it, and his mounting panic slid into something harder. Something colder.

_Sephiroth._

He reached behind him, and his hand gripped around the hard hilt of his gunblade.

_This is_ _**his** _ _fault._

The white-haired General glanced once over his shoulder, smirked, and ducked into an alleyway. Cloud's pulse fluttered.

_**He** _ _did this._

And Cloud began to follow. His boots crunched against the gravel as he ran forward, gunblade held at his side. Green sparked in his vision. The scenery overlapped as his memories and reality fought for his attention, but his gaze did not drift from the man before him, did not waver from the silver hair, that infamous katana, while his mind somersaulted. Somersaulted because Sephiroth was _here,_ a fact that his limping mind struggled to grapple with, and that meant, by some skipping logic, that Cloud had failed that day in Nibelheim's reactor.

He needed to correct that.

No; not needed. _Needed_ was too gentle of a word because Cloud _had_ to correct it. Sephiroth didn't just _need_ to die, he _had_ to die.

And Cloud was going to be the one to do it.

His expression darkened as he turned into an alleyway, his panting breaths grating against his already raw throat. Wood crackled and spit white sparks as the homes crumpled, cracked, broke down. He coughed on smoke.

 _"This way,"_ came a deep voice before him.

Cloud grit his teeth and forced his legs to hurry, forced his sluggish body to move, forced himself to continue walking even as everything was growing foggy around him. Blurry. The line between houses was becoming indistinct until he wasn't sure where one began and another ended, where one rooftop stopped and another one sloped upward, their tiles popping from the heat. Sweat beaded on Cloud's brow. Trickled down the back of his neck, soaked into his sleeveless vest. He turned another corner, gasping…

… only to go deathly still, because there Sephiroth was. He stood as silent and still as death, like a wraith, every bit as arrogant and cocky as Cloud had remembered him. Sephiroth's slitted eyes were tinted red from the firelight, and Cloud could see the smile within them as Sephiroth extended his gloved hand.

Cloud stared at that hand as if he was seeing it for the first time. "I _killed_ you," he finally managed to say, and the words were like ash on his tongue. "You're… You're _dead._ "

"Oh?" Sephiroth's smile became sharp – nearly as sharp as the blade he wielded. "Am I?"

"I _killed_ you," Cloud said again. "With my..." His gaze dropped to his hands, and their leather was slick and dark. "With my own..."

"You need not remind me," Sephiroth cut in, and then his gaze became soft. Almost wistful. "After all, it was the crowning moment of our time together. But that was then... and this is now." A pause, then: "I have a _favor_ to ask of you."

Cloud blinked sweat out of his eyes. "F – favor?" he gasped.

"Our beloved Planet is dying. Slowly. Silently. Painfully," Sephiroth enunciated. "Can you bear to see the Planet suffer? Can you… _Cloud_?"

Firelight danced in Sephiroth's eyes, and danced almost as violently as the madness that boiled within their harsh green mako, and he pinned Cloud beneath that stare. Pinned him down like he was _nothing_ , until Cloud couldn't even bring himself to move -

\- _and then the world shifted around him, and he was sprawled out on the dirt, wounded, weak, and hurting._

 _"Mom..." He gasped as he stretched one hand towards his home, even as willed his body to move, to get up. But all he could do was splay his fingers against the blooming fire that was consuming their house. He could hear her voice, buried somewhere between the roaring flames and the blood pounding in his ears. Could hear her_ begging _Sephiroth to not kill her boy and to kill her instead, if such a thing had to be done._

 _And then, as if from a great distance, Cloud heard someone else speaking. The voice rang clear despite the world burning down around him._ "If the Planet was to be lost," _the voice said,_ "then so many things would be lost as well..."

_Cloud grit his teeth until he tasted copper, and he buried his fingers into the dirt. Forced his arms to pull his limp, weak, useless body forward. "Mom…"_

"… even your hometown, which burns so bright..."

_A glass shattered from somewhere in the house, and Cloud could hear his Mom scream, scream like he had never heard her scream before. It filled him with fear potent enough to lift his head, and in that moment, he would have given anything to switch places with her. Anything._

_"Mom…!"_

"… the sound of her voice," _the voice continued,_ "begging me to spare you..."

_Cloud heard his mother scream once more, and then her voice went silent. Even the fire itself seemed to have gone still; the flames froze midair, the roaring faded from Cloud's head, until the only thing that remained was the wet squelch of metal as it pierced through a warm body..._

"… the shiver of her flesh yielding to cold steel..."

_...and Cloud's hand dropped to the ground, limp, as reality of the situation slammed into him. Helpless, he vomited into the dirt-_

\- and Cloud gagged as his stomach twisted, and he almost wasn't able to stop from being sick right then and there.

"That which binds us together would be no more," Sephiroth continued, as if Cloud hadn't just witnessed the man murder his mother in cold blood. "And I would loathe to live in such a world… which is why I must ask you this favor."

Cloud's lips formed a hard, tight line as he glanced back to Sephiroth. Images of his burning house continued to dance behind his eyes. He still felt its heat against his face.

"Don't worry." Sephiroth's pale lips twisted into a smile when he saw Cloud's expression. "It's a simple thing."

"Sim..." Cloud winced as pain slit through his temple, and he drew a ragged breath. At some point he had lifted a hand to his head, but he did not remember raising it. "Sim...ple?"

Sephiroth's smile widened. " _Very_ simple," he promised. "Because what I want you to do is _run_ , Cloud." Cloud blinked, confused, as firelight danced behind the mad General. "Run away, as far and as fast as you possibly can. You need to live. Live like your mother wasn't able to," he added with a smirk.

Cloud's eyes widened a fraction. _Like… Like Mom wasn't…_

Then, all at once, he understood what Sephiroth was saying.

The world shifted into shades of green even as feral scream ripped out of his throat. Before his mind could process what his body was doing, he threw himself forward, his blade arched behind him in a wild, careless swing. He could have used the gun, but he didn't want to. The savage, brutal side of him wanted exact revenge. The perfect justice. Just as his mother had been cut down, as Zack had been sacrificed by Sephiroth's katana, as he himself had been run through, Cloud wanted to do the same thing in return. He wanted Sephiroth's blood to stain his blade and _sing_ against its metal. He wanted the ground to be _splattered_ with Sephiroth's blood, just like his had been, and like Zack's, and his Mom's, and Tifa's, and everybody else that he had ever cared about.

And yet, just as Cloud slammed his gunblade into the ground, Sephiroth had simply... vanished. Vanished like smoke. Like ash. Like fog, until there was nothing broken beneath Cloud's blade but old boxes and cracked concrete.

Cloud's eyes went wide then, uncomprehending, and he jerked his head back and forth, chest heaving, blood pounding in his veins in an erratic drumroll. _Where?_ his mind demanded, over and over again, even as his eyes flicked deeper into the alley. _Where?_ He looked behind him next, expecting to see the water tower, instead seeing the destroyed railroad bridge – _Where?_ \- before turning back to the ruined boxes in front of him, his blade cleaved straight through the half-rotted wood. His gaze narrowed, breath whistling between his clenched teeth.

"Where?" he hissed.

And then, all at once, he knew:

Sephiroth was gone.

_In fact..._

Sephiroth had probably never been there to begin with.

The realization had Cloud inhaling a sharp, withering breath. _It wasn't… wasn't even real,_ he realized as he placed a hand against his temple. His skin was hot even through the leather glove. _None... None of it was real._ Seeing his house burning down, seeing Sephiroth walk into the alley, seeing - and hearing - his Mom's death all over again…

He closed his eyes, and an icy tear slipped down his cheek.

 _None of it was real,_ he knew.

_It was all fake._

Cloud nearly laughed then. Laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of it, at the absolute horror, at the unfairness of it all, because he didn't know what else he could possible do. His head was broken. Broken like nothing had been broken before, and was probably completely unfixable. He was going mad. Losing his damn mind, if it wasn't long gone already.

 _Maybe… Maybe that's what I was… in the hospital for, before Tifa... found me,_ his mind stammered out even as he grinned, humorless and bitter. _Maybe I went… went crazy._

He inhaled another shaky breath, and the taste of mako was sharp against his tongue. Despite its bitter, metallic taste making him want to vomit, it reminded him where he was. What he still needed to do.

 _Train station,_ he reminded himself. _Last freight car._

_Home._

Gritting his teeth, Cloud peeled himself off the wall and began the slow process of walking out of the alley he had found himself in. It was slow going. He jumped at every shadow. Flinched at every crack and groan and pop. Glanced around every wall, but eventually he made it back onto the main road, and wasn't entirely sure how he managed to get passed the collapsed railroad bridge. All he knew was that, at some point, he had reached some sort of plaza. It was quieter here. Almost peaceful, which struck him as strange. Not even the air tasted and smelled so potently of mako, and he didn't wince every time he took a breath. It cleared some of the fog in his mind. Calmed his raw, sparking nerves, as fragile and delicate as they were.

And then he heard someone calling his name.

* * *

Aerith was convinced that the Planet was trying to kill her.

It had called her to upper Sector Eight – a _proper_ calling, complete with the strange tugging sensation and odd dreams – and then she had arrived, only to witness Mako Reactor One explode above her. Thankfully the buildings around her had been tall enough to block out most of the emerald explosion, but it hadn't stopped the smoke and ash raining down on her. At least she had been far enough away to be safe from the falling, flaming debris.

But not everyone had... and as she stood on the street corner, a bit shell-shocked and stunned, she would occasionally feel a strange pinch in her chest as someone died. It felt a bit like her lungs had been snagged on a thorn for a moment before pulling themselves free, though it didn't hurt. Not really. But each prick dug at her, each one hitting a little deeper, and she clasped her hands tightly over her chest.

 _Why?_ she wondered. No; not wondered. Asked. _Why did you call me here?_

No answer was forthcoming, as expected, and she had almost turned around right then and there – this was _obviously_ the 'something big' the Planet had wanted her to see – but strangely, her feet had remained rooted in place. That tugging sensation had returned, demanding that she stay. That she _watched._

And so Aerith did. She stood on the plaza corner like a statue, her flower basket hanging heavily against the crook of her elbow, wondering what the hell she was going to do now.

And then she saw Cloud.

Or at least, she was mostly certain it was Cloud. She had only seen Zack's friend for a moment at the hospital after all, and the man stumbling before her looked somewhat different. To begin with, he was armed, and a long gunblade rested between his shoulder blades. His cheeks had also been blackened by soot while a particularly nasty cut ran along one of them, and his black clothes - which hung almost loosely on his frame - were dusted with a faint layer of ash. But more so, his expression was harder. The mako in his eyes burned colder.

But the more she watched him, the more she noticed the similarities. Cloud was just as thin as the last time she had seen him at the hospital. He wore the same determined look as he had back then, though perhaps not quite as panicked and raw, and like before, he seemed to carry some sort of weight with him. Something that she couldn't quite make out, even with her special talents. That worried her.

What worried her the most, however, was the gunblade he had equipped. She had gone cold at the sight of it, and now she couldn't tear her gaze away.

 _Why would he need that here?_ she wondered, even as her eyes widened in realization. _Unless…_ She flicked her gaze over him to Mako Reactor One, which continued to burn in the distance, its top peeling and jagged. According to Shinra's emergency announcement, unidentified persons had broken into the reactor and had blown it up. That the persons were dangerous and armed - and right now _Cloud_ was armed, and covered in ash, and was moving away from the reactor.

It wasn't difficult to put two and two together, and she felt as if she had swallowed ice water.

_Oh, Cloud..._

Her lips parted as she began to call Cloud's name, but then she was surprised to see that he was already looking at her.

But he looked… well, he looked terrified. His eyes had gone wide and his breathing was uneven, just gasping breaths, as he took a few stumbling steps backwards.

Aerith's chest squeezed. "Cloud?" she murmured, taking a step forward. "Cloud, are you -"

 _"Go away,"_ Cloud suddenly whispered.

Aerith went still, stunned by his words, only to realize that Cloud wasn't talking to her. Not really. His gaze was pinned on something beside her, but when she glanced that way, she didn't see anything there. Only cobblestones and an old cigarette butt. But _something_ had clearly terrified Cloud. His breath trembled between his lips as he took another step backwards, wide-eyed and horrified. His hand flew to his temple as if he was in pain.

"Cloud?" Aerith tried again, only for Cloud to wince and murmur, _"Sephiroth."_

Aerith's eyes went wide. _Sephiroth?_ She knew that name - knew it well, in fact - and her worry only mounted. She took another step towards Cloud, who still hadn't seemed to notice her. "Cloud, everything is okay," she said, trying to sound soft and unassuming, even as her mind spiraled. Was he hallucinating? Was this a side effect of mako poisoning?

"Cloud," she said again as Cloud continued to stare at something only he could see, "everything is okay. Nobody is there."

But Cloud hadn't seemed to have heard her. His chest only heaved with every raw, gasping breath, and he took another staggering step away from her... only for his eyes to suddenly narrow. He blinked, as if confused, before realization sparked in his eyes.

"Cloud?" She bent over to look directly into his eyes, which had drifted to the ground. To her surprised, he glanced at her, and she quietly smiled in return. He had pretty eyes. They had been blue at one point, but now their natural color had been swallowed by the foreign green mako, which burned far brighter than Aerith had thought possible. His mako poisoning was a severe case indeed.

"Hey..." she murmured, trying to catch his gaze. "Are you okay?"

Cloud stared at her a moment, not understanding, before wincing slightly. He drew away from her. "How... How do you know my... my name?"

Aerith tried not to pay any notice to his halting, stuttering way of speech. "We met before, but only for a moment," she told him, and offered a small, warm smile. She had hoped the smile would relax him, but the tension never left his shoulders, and he remained just as rigid. She tried not to get discouraged by it. "I'm a friend of Zack's."

 _That_ seemed to get Cloud's attention, and his eyes widened a fraction. "Z - Zack?"

"Yes," she promised. "Zack. He's looking for you... did you know that?"

Cloud's lips twitched into a frown. "Zack's... looking?"

"Yes, right now." Aerith's eyes flicked across Cloud's face, searching for any sort of recognition or awareness, but his suddenly stoney expression betrayed nothing. "I can take you to him, if you'd like?"

"Take me...?"

"Yes, take you to see him." Aerith smiled again, even as concern wormed its way into her heart. "Would you like that?"

Cloud's nose scrunched, as if in thought, before the mako in his gaze brightened. Burned so hot that their sharp green practically swallowed the natural blue, and his next words chilled her.

"Zack's dead," he stated matter-of-factly, and then shook his head, violent and hopeless. Ash rained from his pale hair. "Dead. I... I _saw_ him.. _._ He's dead," he finished simply. "I saw."

"No Cloud, that's not true." Desperation tightened her throat as she reached towards him, but he shrank back, as if her touch had the power to burn. It broke her heart. "Zack's alive, I promise. I _swear_ _on the Planet_ that Zack is alive," she said instead, "and he's looking for you _right now."_ She bit her lip, not wanting to overwhelm Cloud - he obviously wasn't in the clearest frames of mind - but she _needed_ him to understand.

No - not needed. Cloud _had_ to understand.

"Cloud," she continued, even as Cloud stared blankly at her, "Zack is worried about you. When you left the hospital -" he flinched, to her surprise, "- he was beside himself. He thought he failed you, that he didn't protect you. He _still_ does, Cloud. Even now. He hasn't stopped searching for you, not once, since you left."

Cloud breath shuddered between them, and he said nothing.

" _Please,_ Cloud," Aerith begged. She placed a hand on his arm, as gently as possibly as it was peppered with burns and cuts, but he didn't move away. Didn't even acknowledge her touch, which bolstered Aerith a bit. Maybe... Maybe he was listening to her. Maybe her words were beginning to have an effect. "Let me... Let me help you. Let me take you to Zack. Okay?"

Cloud blinked. "But I..." His voice trailed off, but Aerith patiently waited for him to continue. For his mako-poisoned mind to piece together what it wanted to say, one syllable at a time. "But I... I need to go to..."

"Need to go to?" Aerith prompted, as Cloud had suddenly gone still.

"Need to... go to the... the _station_ ," Cloud finally managed, as if he was prying each word out of concrete. He thickly swallowed. "Have to meet... meet them. So we can go... go _home._ "

Aerith bit her lip. "People?" she repeated. And when Cloud nodded, she added, "Cloud, did these people... blow up the reactor?"

Cloud bit his lip, and then to Aerith's dread, nodded.

 _Oh, no._ Aerith kept her expression blank, in order to hide her mounting unease, even as her chest squeezed with worry. If Cloud was involved with the reactor's bombing, then he was in a dangerous situation. Shinra would be looking for him. And wasn't that Zack's worst fear - that Shinra would find him and Cloud, and take them back to the labs?

And hadn't she promised that she wouldn't let that happen? That she would do her part to protect them both?"

"Cloud, are these people your friends?" she asked him.

He shook his head.

"But did you help them blow up the reactor?"

Cloud blinked at her, then dropped her gaze. "I..."

"Oh, Cloud..." She lifted her hand until her palm rested against his cheek - his non-injured one - and she gently pulled his attention back to her, until his gaze met hers. "Cloud, it's all right. It's okay. I won't hurt you, I promise."

Cloud pressed his lips together in a tight, white line.

"Did they force you?" Aerith continued, her worried gaze searching his expression. "Did they make you help them?"

Cloud was silent as he mulled over the question, and then he shrugged - a small, helpless sort of gesture. "I... I made a promise," he finally murmured. "To... To help."

Something within Aerith hardened. Not at Cloud, not even close, but at whoever had _used_ him like this. Gods, it made her sick to her stomach just thinking about it. Who would consider doing such a thing? And besides, hadn't he gone to be with his friend? She _knew_ that he had... so why had things turned out this way?

"Cloud." Cloud glanced back to her, uncertain and unsure, and she offered him another reassuring smile. None of her internal anger made it to her expression. "How about we go see Zack? He can help you out, I promise, and we can bandage you up too. How does that sound?"

Cloud shakily inhaled. "But... But, Tifa, and I... I promised to..."

"Your friends," she said, the word icy on her tongue, "won't be upset with you, I promise."

"But..."

"Besides, it's dangerous that way," Aerith continued. "Public Security forces are everywhere right now. You don't want them to see you, right?"

"No."

"And what if they catch you on the way? Then you won't be able to meet anyone, your friends _or_ Zack. And you wouldn't want that, right?"

Cloud shook his head in response.

"Then it'll be safer with me." Aerith smiled again at him, and she could feel him relax beneath her hand. Felt his thin muscles losing some of their tension. "And with Zack, too. How about we go see him, okay?"

"B - But..."

"And then we can visit your friends, later," Aerith promised. "But how about we go see Zack first? He'll be happy to see you," she added at his indecision.

"And he's..." Cloud thickly swallowed. "He's not... not dead?"

Aerith looped her hand in his, if only to make sure he didn't disappear beneath her nose. "He's very much alive, I promise," she grinned.

"But I... I saw him -"

But before Cloud could even finish his sentence, a small squad of Security Officers ran towards them. The three red lights on their helmet wavered as they steadied their guns.

 _Shit,_ Aerith thought, grimacing. This was undoubtedly the _worst_ possible timing.

"Hey, you!" the lead infantryman shouted at Cloud. "Put the sword on the ground!"

"Wait!" Aerith jumped between Cloud and the guns trained on his chest, much to his shock - and her own. Some of her flowers spilled out of her basket. "He's - He's my bodyguard, and doesn't have anything to do with the bombing!"

"Miss, he matches the description of the perpetrator," the infantryman shot back. "Please move away from him - he's dangerous!"

 _"_ Please _,"_ murmured Cloud, who was standing rigid behind her. "You need... need to leave. Not... Not safe."

But Aerith shook her head at him. "Cloud, if you think that I'm just going to leave you -"

"Miss, please return to your home," the guard continued, "or we will have no choice but to take you in as well!"

" _Please_ ," Cloud whispered again. He reached over his shoulder for his gunblade, which had all of the Security Guards flinching and leveling their guns at him. Aerith sharply inhaled, unable to stop her breath from catching with fear, as he continued, "It's... It's not safe with... with me."

But Aerith's grip only tightened on his hand. "So?" she said, and shot him a brief smile, one that had him blinking. "I made a promise, and I intend to keep it."

He frowned at that. "A promise?"

"That's right," she said. "A promise."

Cloud opened his mouth to reply, but all of a sudden, one of the Security Guards suddenly slammed onto the ground with a strangled grunt. His helmet spun dizzyingly across the cobblestones.

Aerith's eyes flew wide as she watched it skid past her feet. _What the..._

Beside her, Cloud had visibly paled and had gone still - impossibly so, until he was more statue than man. His eyes burned hot, hot enough to burn, and his voice was haunted as he whispered:

_"Zack."_

* * *

When Zack had turned the corner and entered the Loveless plaza, he thought that his heart was going to stop beating. Just go silent in his chest, because not only was Aerith and Cloud standing there - _Cloud,_ which had his mind reeling - but a small Public Security squad was training their _guns_ on them. Guns. The same guns that they had pointed at him back on the Midgar cliffs, the same guns that had just about ended his life.

More so, Aerith was clearly terrified though she did her best to hide it, and Cloud... Cloud was obviously injured. Injured and dazed and disoriented. His vision was glassy, his eyes seemed unfocussed, and wounds peppered his body. Yet, despite all of that, he was reaching over his shoulder for a sword. A sword that he had no business wielding in his condition.

And then, when the infantrymen flinched and trained their guns on the two of them...

Something in Zack had snapped. Snapped and broke and splintered into ragged shards, shards that tore through his mind and lungs and veins. His blood pounded in his ears, a steady roar that drowned out shrill voices of the infantry guards as they barked their orders, and his vision shifted into startling shades of green as it focused. Focused into crystalline clarity.

Before Zack had been Hojo's twisted science experiment, he had been a SOLDIER.

A SOLDIER: First Class.

A SOLDIER that had single handedly ripped apart Hojo's Nibelheim lab, crossed two monster-infested continents on foot while caring for Cloud, and then defeated an entire platoon of infantrymen that had been assigned purely to kill him.

They had, obviously, failed.

They regretted that now.

Zack was a dark blur against the ground, a shadow that - despite lacking his Buster Sword - was no less lethal. When the first infatryman turned, all he had seen were two glowing green eyes before his entire world suddenly went black. He hadn't even had enough time to scream in pain.

The second guard had a little more time, and had yelled a warning before his gun was knocked out of his hands and a fist connected with his sternum. The flat bone cracked. Ribs disconnected, and the man's lips were dyed red as he coughed. But then a second blow landed on the back of his neck, and he slammed onto the ground, boneless. If he was unconscious already, he certainly wished that he was.

"Fuck!" one of the infantrymen screamed, lifting his gun, only to receive a swift kick in the gut. His breath whooshed out of his lungs in a single, choppy gasp, and he fell heavily to his knees, his arms wrapped around his middle.

And in the corner of Zack's hyper-focused, mako-induced adrenaline rush, he saw movement in the corner of his eyes. Heard the distant, dull sound of a helicopter's blades.

_"Zack."_

The sound of his name was jarring. Shockingly so, and his body visibly tensed even as he turned to Cloud. _Cloud,_ who was watching him with equal parts horror and disbelief.

But he was _watching_ him. Actually _seeing_ him, which was such a vast improvement from the past four years that it had Zack grinning, even if he felt a bit like he was about to cry. Because Cloud was awake. Awake and alert and coherent, even if he was a bit out of it at the moment.

"Is it..." Cloud's voice was halting. Quiet. Tight. "Is it really... really you?"

One of the remaining infantryman lifted their gun, meaning to put a bullet in Zack's leg, but Zack reached down as quick as lightning and threw a rock at the man's head. It pinged off of the helmet hard enough to dent the metal, and he dropped harmlessly to the ground.

"Yeah, Spikey." Having dispatched all of the guards, Zack was able to turn his full attention back to Cloud. He grinned. "Of course I am."

Cloud thickly swallowed. "You're... you're real?"

Zack went cold at that, but thankfully Aerith spared him from replying. "Yes, he's real," she said gently. Her grip tightened on Cloud's hand. "I promised, didn't I? He's alive."

Which had Zack's mind somersaulting. _Cloud thought I was dead?_

"I'm not... not seeing things?" Cloud continued, now turning to Aerith. "Not... Not again?"

"Nope," Aerith grinned.

Zack shakily exhaled, not liking where this conversation was going. "Spikey -" he began, reaching for the smaller man, but the harsh whir of helicopter blades cut him off. His head jerked to the sky. "Shit," he muttered as a spotlight wavered through nearby roads. "We need to go."

"I may know a way," Aerith offered.

 _Of course she does,_ Zack thought, and nodded. "Let's hurry then," he told her before shifting his gaze to Cloud. His lips curved in a tentative smile. "Ready to go, Spikey?"

Cloud's head jerked to him, wide-eyed, and he didn't respond.

But Zack was used to Cloud being unresponsive. "Yeah, me too," he muttered, and placed a hand against his back to guide him down the road. The touch was more habit than anything else, but Cloud responded to it, his strides shifting to match with Zack's even as he stared blankly at the ground.

 _What the hell happened?_ Zack frowned at Cloud; his cuts, the burns, the bruises. The _sword,_ and he glanced at Aerith with questions burning in his eyes.

But Aerith only met his gaze and shook her head. _Later,_ she was telling him. _Later._

After a pause, Zack nodded - _later_ was something he could do. "Let's hurry," he murmured, mostly for Cloud's benefit. Cloud shivered beneath his hand.

Meanwhile, the city burned around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I made some pretty drastic changes to the ending (for example, Cloud and Zack were never meant to meet so soon...) and basically ended up derailing everything I had planned for like... the next twenty chapters. RIP my life, but I like this version a little better. This draft definitely feels the most natural out of all of them, but I'll be taking a one week break to figure out where the story is going now and make some new chapter outlines. When we meet next, hopefully the story will be even better than my original drafts :)
> 
> So on that note, the next chapter will update on July 31st. Until then, stay well and stay safe, and I wish you all the best :)
> 
> \--
> 
> Feel free to follow my Twitter account ( @Rand0mSmil3z ) if you’d like to see story & writing updates, chapter previews, links to my other writing & ko-fi account, and general positivity 😊🌻


	16. Empty Rooms and Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! It's been a while! I hope that everyone had a good couple of weeks :)
> 
> I spent the entire two weeks planning out future chapters & trying to get ahead in all of my writing projects. It more-or-less worked, and this chapter begins "Part 2" of the Halcyon Days: Midgar arc. And I don't want to spoil to much, but let's just say I'm veeery excited to eventually write one of our favorite boys in a dress ;)
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

Zack's room wasn't anything special. Like the rest of the dorm-style rooms within the Turk Lodging center, the room was little more than a bed shoved into the corner, a small nightstand, and an adjacent restroom area. There were no posters hanging on the wall. No family photos displayed on the dresser. The only hints that someone was currently living here, that the room wasn't empty and abandoned, were a pile of letters stacked on the nightstand and the messy, bunched-up bed sheets.

But the sheets were cold. The lights were off. The window was open and a muggy breeze, one that vaguely smelled of smoke and mako, disturbed the curtains as it pushed itself inside the room.

The very much _empty_ room.

Reno ran an impatient hand through his red hair before muttering a heartfelt " _Shit."_ Tseng wasn't going to be happy about this. Not one bit.

"Tseng won't be happy," Rude said beside him, echoing his thoughts.

"No shit." Reno scowled at the bed as if it were to blame, before shifting his gaze to Rude. "So, partner," he said half-heartedly. "Now what?"

Rude worked his way to the other side of the room before peeking into the joined bathroom, as if confirming Zack wasn't hiding behind one of the shower curtains. "Do you think Zack could have gotten far?"

Reno harshly sighed. "Dunno." It was far too late for this shit. He was tired, there was a kink in his back of his neck, and all he wanted to do was go back to his room, crack open a cold beer, and relax. Just for a damn minute. "This is just like the fuckin' intelligence outpost all over again," he muttered into the room. "Why can't Fair just stay still for one damn second? _Shit,_ " he said again. "I'm a Turk, not a babysitter."

Rude glanced at him from the other side of the room, and his gaze was dark beneath his sunglasses. "You know that we're going to have to tell Tseng, right?"

Reno loudly groaned. "Don't remind me."

 _"Now,_ Reno."

"Yeah yeah yeah..." Reno reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone. It was an older model, one that flipped open instead of being a simple display screen, but old tech was easier to mod. Not to mention that Shinra had a harder time tracking down the older stuff than the newer, more modern versions. That alone made dealing with the laggy screen and sticky buttons worth it.

Reno flipped the phone open and, after an appreciative glance at his background of his favorite dark-haired Honey Bee girl, switched to his contacts. He quickly found Tseng's number as his contact list was pretty barren, and it also helped that Tseng's contact photo was an overblown photo of a Hedgehog Pie. The common monster's red, warty face scowled up at Reno, and he mirrored its expression before looking up from his phone.

"Do you wanna make this call?" he asked Rude, who snorted in response.

 _Yeah, that's a no…_ Reno ran another impatient hand through his hair. _Well,_ he decided as he pressed the 'Call' button, _might as well get this over with_.

Tseng picked up on the first ring. _"Well?"_ Tseng began, not bothering for any greeting or niceties... not that Reno hadn't been expecting any to begin with. _"Did you find Fair?"_

Reno winced. "Um, yeah. About that..."

Tseng's sigh echoed through the receiver. _"Reno."_

"Look, it ain't my fault Zack isn't in his room!" Reno animatedly waved his hands through the air as he paced the room, and his black shoes scuffed against the thin carpet. "I don't have the time to constantly keep tabs on him. Though," he added, shooting the mused bed another dirty look, "by the look of things, he probably hasn't been here for a while."

Rude moved closer to the phone, almost to the point where his and Reno's cheeks were brushing against each other. "What would you like us to do, sir?"

Tseng was silent for a moment. Then a moment turned into two, and soon Reno was fidgeting and he and Rude were sharing worried glances.

Finally, Tseng said, _"You will do nothing, for now. Frankly,_ _I can't say that I'm surprised that Fair left, not with Aerith within reach and Strife missing."_ There was another pause, then he dryly chuckled and added, _"Fair always did enjoy playing the hero."_

Reno frowned. "Look boss, are you sure there's nothing you want us to do? Nothing at all?"

 _"Yes, I'm sure,"_ Tseng immediately replied. But he sounded distracted, as if he was reaching for something. _"Besides, I believe that I know where Fair went."_

Reno arched a delicate eyebrow in surprise. "Where? Do you want Rude and I -"

 _"No, you are free to return to base,"_ Tseng interrupted. There was a rattle, the sound of something being moved. " _I'll take care of it_."

"Tseng." Reno kept his voice as even and clipped as possible. "Like, no offense or anything, but you've been doing nothing but work since Fair and Strife showed up. Maybe you should take some time off. Take a nap or something."

Rude nearly choked beside him.

Reno, cupping his hand over the phone's microphone, glared at Rude and mouthed, _Someone had to say it._

 _"Reno."_ Tseng's amused tone echoed through the speaker. _"As much as I… appreciate your concern, I believe I can decide for myself when I do or do not need to take a nap."_

"Listen, I know you do, but, like…" Reno's voice trailed off as he glanced out the window, to the distant haze of smoke and fire in the distance. At how the green light from the burning mako, which coupled from the red from the roaring fires beneath the reactor, lit up the underside of the clouds and gave it a hellish glow. "Shit's just getting real right now," he said quietly. "You know?"

 _"I'm well aware."_ Tseng's voice, unlike Reno's, betrayed no emotion. He sounded just as calm and collected as ever, which only worried Reno more. _"But as I said prior, I will take care of our 'Zack Fair' problem,"_ the leader of the Turks continued. " _You and Rude can do what you wish for the remainder of the night, but I expect you both at in the Turk Lounge at 0800 sharp tomorrow morning."_ His tone left no room for argument. _"We're having an all-team meeting."_

"An all-team meeting?" Reno flicked his eyes to Rude, who shared his surprised look. Reno couldn't even _remember_ the last time the Turks pulled an all-team meeting.

Actually, scratch that – he could.

The last _all-hands-on-deck_ meeting had been the day after Sephiroth had burned down Nibelheim. The Turks had all been gathered at Shinra headquarters and, in five sentences or maybe even less, Tseng had told them that they had been ordered to rebuild the destroyed mountain village. And not just rebuild the buildings. The people had to be replaced, too. In short, the Turks had to initiate a mass transfer of both building materials and personnel to one of the most remote, backwater villages on the neighboring content _and_ , in the process, erase the Nibelheim massacre completely.

And they had.

They had, even when they had spent nearly a fortune in bribing people to relocate. When they had then altered the new villagers' memories so that they believed that they had spent their entire lives beneath the Nibel mountains. When they ensured that all of the newly-built homes matched the few pictures that had survived the fire, that the paths looked sufficiently beaten and worn, and that the repaired water tower didn't smell like smoke and ash. It had left a bad aftertaste in Reno's mouth to erase history so completely, but he was a Turk - emotions didn't matter when it came to finishing their mission. And once the project came to a close…

Well, simply put, the Turks had never spoken of it again. They had been ordered not to.

And just like that, it had been like the Nibelheim incident had never happened in the first place.

So for Tseng to call another all-team meeting _now_ …

Well, there was only one way to respond to that, wasn't there?

Reno stood up a little straighter. "We'll be there," he replied, speaking for both him and Rude. He said those three small words even when they left a bad taste in his mouth. Even when they reminded him of things he'd rather have forgotten, things that he almost regretted doing in the first place. And he couldn't help but wonder...

What would the Turks would be asked to do now?

* * *

The freight train rattled down the tracks. Every stomach-twisting lurch sent bodies crashing into one another, and some shot dirty glares before squeezing themselves further against the wall. Others simply looked hollow, their gazes bright and empty, as they dusted off their ash-flaked clothes or stared at the black world outside the window. The train car was clearly over capacity. It smelled of smoke and sweat and bodies, and it was tightly packed and uncomfortable... but it was a way out of Sector Eight. It was an escape, one that was desperately needed, and so most people didn't mind whether or not they had managed to find a seat. Most were just happy to be alive.

While the train's main cars were overly crowded, the back of the train was a little more open. Cargo was stored in the back, and that meant that there were no seats. No windows. No sort of comfort whatsoever; only metal walls and wooden boxes, which had been stacked nearly to the ceiling. The air was humid and musty, and the few passengers that had ventured this far back spoke in hushed voices, as if they were sharing a secret. Or maybe they were afraid of breathing the musty air too deeply.

But Barret didn't have that problem.

"Tifa's gonna kill me," he loudly announced. As they had opted for the very last train car, which happened to also be the most packed with boxes, only Avalanche members were around to hear him.

Well, most of Avalanche, anyway... they were currently one short.

Barret pushed himself off of the box and began to pace, even when the lurching train car nearly made him lose his balance once or twice. Dull light glinted off of his prosthetic machine gun as he loudly continued, "Where the _hell_ is Cloud? Huh?" He turned to Wedge as if the larger man had all the answers, but Wedge only ducked his head and pretended to be busy tying his shoelaces.

In the end, Biggs was the only member brave enough to reply. "I'm sure Cloud will be here any second," he said as he sat down one of the box piles. His voice was calm and steady, which was a striking contrast to his hands – hands that were clenched so tightly on his lap that his fingernails cut crescent moons into his palms. "I mean," he continued, lifting his head, "let's think about this. Cloud was in SOLDIER, right? So I'm sure he has some sort of plan and will be here any second."

"Ooh!" Wedge dropped his shoelaces, which had never been untied to begin with. "Maybe he'll swing in from the ceiling, like a spy!"

Jessie shot Wedge a dry look. "What weird movies have _you_ been watching?"

"Yeah," Barret said, ignoring Wedge and Jessie, "but the fact of th' matter is, SOLDIER-boy ain't here _now._ " His expression darkened. "And he _should've_ been at the station with th' rest of us! Hell, he should've been the first one there!" He slammed his fist down on his knee, and the dull thud echoed through the train car. "So what the hell happened?"

"Maybe he got lost?" Jessie ventured.

Barret snorted.

"I'm sure Cloud is fine," Biggs continued. "I mean, the kid has some skill. We all saw it."

"Yeah, Cloud's _fast,"_ Wedge chimed in. "He dodged a _bullet_."

"Well... not all of them," Jessie grimaced, recalling Cloud's bloodied cheek.

"Anyway." Biggs clapped his hands on his knees, bringing the conversation to the main topic, before turning back to Barret. "We all saw him take out the Security Guards outside of the reactor, and I _know_ you and him took out some more on the way there."

Barret scowled. "Yeah, but -"

"So I'm sure Cloud's fine," Biggs finished. "He can obviously take care of himself."

"Can he?" Barret shot back. "Maybe in the beginnin' our merc had everything under control, but you didn't see him inside of the reactor." Back and forth Barret walked, and his boots echoed hollow against the car's metal floor. "Cloud... he freaked out. His eyes got all weird, he called me by some other guy's name, mumbled things, got headaches…"

Jessie bit her lip. "You know… I kind of saw that too, back in the reactor. His eyes were slitted and glowed like, a really green color." She paused, frowning at the floor. "He said that it was because of the mako."

"Maybe because he used to be in SOLDIER?" Wedge offered. "You know, like maybe the mako already in him reacted with the mako outside? Or something?"

"I think it was somethin' more than _mako,"_ Barret scowled before sitting heavily on some of the cargo. The wooden crates groaned underneath his weight. "Kid ain't okay in the head, if you get my meaning."

Wedge's foot tapped against the floor. "Tifa _did_ say that Cloud had been sick or something..."

"That he had just gotten out of some sort of hospital," Biggs added. His hands clenched further. "That he wasn't his best."

"And that he needed to be watched, just in case," Barret finished with a sharp exhale. "And I told Tifa that I would." Which brought him to his original point: "Tifa's gonna kill me."

After all, he had _promised_ her that he would look after Cloud. Sure, he hadn't really believed that Cloud had been in _that_ bad of shape – not at first, anyway. Sure, kid had been spacey. Had flinched at the bright lights in the bar. But who in the slums didn't have some sort of weird tic? Hell, Barret himself had a _machine_ _gun_ grafted to his arm, and it weighed far heavier than just its metal and lead.

And then, when they had gone into the reactor together… there, Barret had understood Tifa's concern. That Cloud wasn't just a little spacey and jumpy, but there was something very much wrong with him. Something about the mako had done more than spook him - it had made him freak out. And then when Cloud had called Barret _Zack…_

Well, it made Barret wonder what the hell happened before Tifa had found Cloud. One thing he knew for sure, though – it sure as hell wasn't a _hospital_ that Cloud had left. He had a feeling that it was something a little more _sensitive_ than that.

But now Cloud was missing.

 _Hell,_ Barret thought with his gaze pinned onto the floor, _Cloud could even be_ dead _._

The train continued to rumble down the tracks, and the car continued to lurch with every bump on the rails. The walls creaked and rattled. The wooden boxes groaned, almost as if they were alive, as if they were just as unhappy as the rest of them.

Finally, Barret rubbed a hand through his cropped hair and said, "Cloud was my responsibility." His voice seemed unnaturally loud in the tense quiet. "He was obviously unwell, and I should have stayed with him after the reactor. Made sure he got to the train station and all of that, instead of thinkin' that he could handle himself on the streets." Barret clenched his hand into a fist. "I _knew_ that he had been freakin' out, too."

"Barret, this isn't all on you," Jessie said gently. "We're a team – we need to take care of each other."

"And besides, Cloud knew what he was getting into," Wedge added with a small smile. "And he _was_ in SOLDIER. Out of all of us here, he probably had the best chance of getting out."

Jessie scowled at him. " _Hey!"_

"Just sayin'!"

"No, Wedge is right." Biggs lifted his gaze off of the floor. "Cloud was a professional."

" _Is_ a professional," Jessie interrupted.

Biggs offered her an apologetic grin. _"Is_ a professional," he amended, before turning to the rest of the group. "And he knew what he was doing out there. We all saw him, and for all we know, he could be fine right now. Maybe he got on a different train or something," he added with a shrug. "Needless to say... we shouldn't give up on him just yet."

"He _better_ have booked his pasty ass on another train," Barret grumbled before turning to Jessie. "Did you give him his ID before the mission?"

Jessie shot him a thumbs up. "Hell yeah I did."

"Good," Barret nodded. "At least SOLDIER-boy has a chance of gettin' off topside on his own."

"Definitely," Biggs agreed. Wedge and Jessie quickly offered their own words of agreement.

But even so, Barret couldn't help but feel… _uneasy._ He had seen the look in Cloud's eyes shortly before they had parted ways. Had seen the fear in them, the anxiety swirling beneath their mako glow… but he had seen determination burning in there too, and Barret had thought that the determination would be enough to get Cloud through the streets. After all, all Cloud had to do was go down the road. That was it. The train station was at the end of the main street - it was basically a straight shot.

 _So why didn't he make it?_ Barret scowled. The train car jolted at a particularly nasty bump, and his dark gaze slid to the car door. It was locked tight, the iron latch digging deep into its lock. He watched the door for a minute... but a minute turned into two, and three, and five. All the while the door remained stubbornly shut, and it had Barret scowling all over again. It took him another minute to realize _why_ he couldn't tear his gaze away from the door, and the realization left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He was hoping Cloud would walk through it. That SOLDIER-boy would kick down the door and swing into the train car in the same graceful, cocky way he had flipped off of the train when they had first shown up in Sector Eight. That he would show up and would be just fine.

But of course he didn't. The door remained tightly shut and locked, no matter how many minutes had passed.

 _Tifa's gonna kill me,_ Barret thought.

His second thought was: _How the hell am I going to tell her?_

That thought kept him company through the train's automatic identification check. It continued to keep him company until they reached the Sector Seven slums, and by the end of it all, he still didn't have an answer. How do you tell someone that a person they love has gone missing? That they could even be dead? That even though you had _promised_ to keep them safe, _promised_ to take them home in one piece, that they had gone missing and may be dead anyway?

How do you tell someone that?

It was a new feeling for Barret – this abject loss of words. He had _always_ known what to say. He had known what to say when he had first started recruiting for Avalanche; when he had pitched his lofty goal of blowing up Mako Reactor One; when they succeeded in blowing the reactor to high hell but also destroyed part of the city, and he had to lift the team's moral.

But now?

Barret was drawing a blank. All he could think about was how disappointed Tifa was going to be, how upset, how _furious,_ and his heart lurched to his throat as the train lurched to a stop at the Sector Seven station. The moment the train had stopped entirely, Barret could feel the rest of the teams' stare at his back – their worry, their unease, their uncertainty. They didn't know what to do. They were waiting for him to make the first move.

But why wouldn't they? Barret was their leader, after all - and right now, he had to lead.

Taking a deep breath, he was the first to rise to his feet. "Let's do this."

"Cloud could be in the next train," Biggs murmured behind him.

Barret made a noise low in his throat, one that could have meant anything, as he unlocked the car door and threw it open.

The first thing he noticed was how cool the air was. How different it was from above the plate, where everything was burning and smoke choked the air so thick that it _still_ burned his eyes and irritated his throat. The streetlights flickered low and warm, and beneath them were a crowd of people. Worried faces broke into bright smiles as they noticed evacuated relatives and friends. People were hugging. Some were wiping tears, while others were asking if they had seen so-and-so – if they had seen them get on the train, if anyone knew where they were.

" _Guys!"_

Barret inwardly flinched at Tifa's bright voice, and then she was pushing her way towards them, her scarlet eyes bright beneath the streetlight's faint glow. Her lips were pulled back in a smile; her cheeks were flushed.

Gods, she was _happy to see them,_ and no matter how Barret tried, he couldn't return her smile.

But she didn't seem to notice. "You made it!" She looked as if she had just come from the bar; a dish towel was still looped around her belt, and she wrung her hands in it as she looked at each of them in turn. "How was it? Did – Did it go well? I heard the explosion from the bar, you know, and hurried over as soon as I heard the train coming."

Barret thickly swallowed. "Tifa..."

But Tifa wasn't paying any attention to him - not really. She continued talking, even has her gaze jumped between the team-members. No one could meet her gaze. "Is everyone okay?" she asked, confused. "Did anyone get hurt from the explosion?"

Wedge winced. "No..." he managed. "No one got hurt from the, uh, explosion."

"Good, good," Tifa told him, but it was obvious that she was distracted. Her expression had shifted into confusion and then she was looking past them, into the empty freight car, her eyes narrowed against the dark. She was looking for someone. A familiar face that wasn't there.

"Where's Cloud?" she finally asked. She tilted her head towards the main passenger cars, where people were still spilling out of the car doors and onto the station. "Did he..." She turned to Barret, almond eyes bright beneath the dim light. "Did he get on a different car? Why isn't he with you?"

 _Fuck._ Barret had a hard time meeting her stare – at the trust within them, the sort of childish faith that knew that everything would be okay, if only because he had promised her it would be. And it made everything worse, that trust.

He thickly swallowed. "Tifa..."

Tifa nearly flinched at his tone. "Barret," she interrupted, "where's Cloud?" And when Barret didn't answer he right away, her expression became a little more panicked. Her voice a little higher pitched. "Is he – Is he on the train? Is he with you?"

Barret closed eyes his eyes.

 _This is it,_ he knew.

_Now or never._

"Tifa." Barret opened his eyes and, trying to keep his tone as level and even as he could, said, "Cloud never made it back to the station."

Tifa watched him for a moment. Stared at him as she took it in.

Then her face fell the moment that she realized what he was saying, and her trembling lower lip, the way she bit her cheek so hard that it must have drawn blood, hit Barret far harder than her punch ever could.

 _Far_ harder, and it had Barret thickly swallowed before he could continue. "We blew up th' reactor," he said, his voice gravely. "We escaped, _all_ of us, and then split up before we all headed back to the station."

Tifa's clenched her jaw and clenched her hands into fists, the knuckles white with strain.

"Security Guards were everywhere, Teef," Barret tried to explain. "Going together would have been too dangerous, and Cloud… He never met us at the station."

Tifa inhaled a wavering breath. "So you're… you're saying that Cloud… He could still be up there?" Her voice was thick with emotion, but Barret pretended not to notice. He knew how Tifa hated to cry. How she hated to show weakness like that.

And he hated that he was the one who had done this to her. _Hated_ how he had let her down.

"We think that Cloud could have gotten on a different train," Biggs said, coming to Barret's rescue. "Cloud's talented, and more than capable – I mean, he _had_ been in SOLDIER," he added, as if anyone needed reminding. "So if anyone could get out of Sector Eight, it's him."

But Tifa didn't look relieved. "He's up there? All by himself? Alone?" And when no one replied, she visibly paled. "I – I need to get up there." She turned to the train, jaw clenched, her intent obvious. "I need to find Cloud, because he'll need my help, and -"

A hand on her arm stopped her. "Teef, you can't," Barret said, his voice quiet and soft. "The trains don't run topside this late."

"It doesn't matter!" Tifa whirled on him, and her eyes were bright beneath the dim streetlights. "I'll find a way!"

"TIfa -"

_"I'll find one!"_

Jessie placed a hand on Tifa's shoulder, and Barret was mildly surprised that Tifa didn't push her off. "Let's go back to the bar and plan a rescue mission," she said quickly. "Barret's right, the trains to go to the upper plates this late at night, but I'm sure we can think of other ways."

"And Cloud may even be on his way to us right now," Biggs added. "If Cloud got on a different train, then the bar is probably the first place he would go."

"Yeah, Teef." Wedge smiled at her, his expression warm. "Cloud's strong, way stronger than the rest of us. He can handle himself."

Tifa bit her lip, and said nothing.

"Then it's decided." Jessie gently squeezed Tifa's shoulders and offered her a small smile. "Let's go to the bar, wait for Cloud, and decide what we're going to do next. Deal?"

For a moment, Barret didn't think that she was going to respond. That instead she was going to stand there frozen, a statue against the night, with her chin tilted upwards towards the upper plate and unshed tears shining in her eyes.

And then she inhaled and nodded, so quickly that Barret had nearly missed it. "Let's go," she croaked, and – after glancing at the train car once more – sharply turned to walk back to the bar.

After a brief moment, the rest of the team began to slowly follow. Barret trailed behind group, and the loose stones and gravel crunched beneath his boots as he walked. His mind somersaulted. His chest squeezed painfully with guilt.

He had thought that Tifa was going to kill him for losing Cloud. That she was going to curse him name, rage at him for breaking their promise, and maybe even leave Avalanche. But instead… instead, she hadn't blamed him at at. She hadn't even _mentioned_ the promise he had made her before the mission.

Barret's hand formed a fist at his side.

He would have preferred her anger. Her rage. Her hate _,_ because he knew how to _handle_ all of that. In fact, he had _years_ of experience dealing with those sort of emotions. Anger in particular was one he carried near his heart.

But this?

Whatever _this_ was?

Barret flicked his gaze to the distant horizon, the jagged edge of where upper Midgar ended and the sky began.

 _This is worse,_ he decided. Far worse, but the worst thing of all was that he didn't know how to fix it. Because deep in his heart, he knew that Cloud never made it on another train. That he probably never even made it to the station.

And there was just no fixing that.

* * *

Compared to the unnatural stillness of the rest of Hojo's laboratory, Sample Storage Three was a constant source of noise and chaos. Mako pods bubbled against the walls and provided a melodic backdrop to the cries and screeches of the caged monsters, some so mutilated that it was difficult to discern what their original species was. Several specimens shifted nervously in their cages as Hojo passed, and their overgrown claws clicked against the metal floor as they pressed their twisted hybrid forms against the cage bars. Some whimpered. Others hissed.

But Hojo paid them no mind. These monsters – these _failures –_ weren't what he came here for. He had another prize in mind.

As a general rule, Hojo avoided visiting the specimens directly. He didn't enjoy how the air in Sample Storage was perpetually damp and reeking. Didn't enjoy how the scent of rot and mold clung to his clothes the rest of the day, and _definitely_ did not enjoy washing the strange, unexplainable stains out of his clothes after one of his rare visits. It was the reason he made his lab assistants tend to the specimens within Sample Storage.

In short, Hojo's lab coat stayed white.

Of course, there _were_ rare moments when he did visit his specimens. It was an event saved for only the most promising of samples, and Hojo had a promising one _indeed._ He reminded himself to keep his expectations low, however. That even the most promising of samples could lead to the most disappointing of results, and that the most optimistic hypothesis could be simply that - optimistic, and in no way benefiting of reality.

Just like it had with Sample C.

Hojo's lips sharpened into a smile as failed specimens continued to writhe and hiss around him. _Sample C…_ Yes, Sample C had been nearly perfect. Young. Healthy, with the exception of a collapsed lung from being impaled and minor lung, throat, and eye irritation from smoke. But _most_ importantly, Sample C had been responsive to Hojo's tests. Reactive to all of Hojo's experimental treatments and experimentations, and in the end, even willing to even undergo some of the necessary procedures if only to end the process quicker.

Even now, one year after Sample C's classification of failure, Hojo could only think of one red flag Sample C had possessed. It had been how... temperamental the specimen was, how emotional, and the specimen's emotional volatility had only become more and more extreme as the experiment had continued. It had begun when the specimen had suffered a fit of hysteric laughter when pitted against one of Hojo's hybrid creations, which was designed to induce another scenario similar to Sample C's brief fight with Sephiroth, to bouts of crying so intense that the specimen would dehydrate, vomit, and then fall unconscious.

The memories had Hojo frowning. Sample C had certainly been difficult to contend with, even for an esteemed scientist such as himself, and he had quickly learned that it was far quicker to simply _give_ Sample C to Sample Z than it had been to inject Sample C with a cocktail of calming drugs. Of course, it had always difficult pry Sample C _away_ from Sample Z after the subject had been calmed, but filling their holding cell with methylprylone vapor had proven quite the effective remedy. Once Sample Z was unconscious, it was a simple matter retrieving Sample C. Problem solved.

And even so, despite all of the unconventional practices done with placate Sample C's emotional responses - the same emotional responses that had proved to be both useful and necessary in predicting each treatement's success - none of Hojo's labor had proven fruitful. Though numerous factors could have been attributed to Sample C's inveitable degradation, in the end it had been the mako tanks that had proven to be the final straw. Sample C's mental and physical deterioration occurred so rapidly after the specimen had been exposed to mako, that Hojo couldn't help but conclude that the sample was somehow _allergic_ to the Planet's Lifestream. It was a quite the shocking result. Granted, it wasn't _completely_ outside the scope of impossibility, but Hojo had never seen anything quite like it before... and he had seen quite a bit in his lifetime.

If it had been another time, Hojo would have liked to research that _allergy_ a bit more. To study how, exactly, Sample C could kill one of the most powerful First Class SOLDIERs ever created, and yet a ten minute soak in a mako tub would render the specimen delirious and incoherent. It was baffling, truly. Yet time was one commodity that Hojo did not have; the REUNION hypothesis needed _successful_ specimens in order to reach its conclusion, and Sample C, along with Sample Z, had been nowhere near successful. They had been failures, and they had died like failures; gunned down outside of Midgar exactly like the very monsters that wandered that arid wasteland. So ended Hojo's hope of examining Sample C further.

But thankfully, Hojo had other specimens to examine.

The scientist's ringing footsteps eventually came to a stop in front of a holding cell. This cell was set apart from the others in the Sample Storage, as it contained one of the rarer, more valuable specimens the laboratory housed. The holding cell was cleaner as well, clean enough that Hojo could see his reflection within its warped, curved glass. His reflection grinned sharply back at him.

"Hello, Red XIII."

The four-legged beast within the cell growled in response, and its flame-tipped tail twitched in annoyance. It had an appearance similar to a lion, with brick-colored fur and a long, black mane arching down its spine. Feathers and beads had been woven into the dark mane and golden bangles, the metal smudged and dull, adorned its bone-thin ankles. Above the gold were black brands; one leg sported a tribal tattoo while the other had been branded the ancient runes XIII, which translated to _thirteen_ in the common tongue. If its particular species had a name, it had long since been forgotten.

The beast itself wasn't particularly interesting. It was not as fast as a Sonic Speed, a flying dragon-like monster native to the Nibel mountain range, nor was it as strong as a King Behemoth, which was a saber-toothed tiger-like monster local to the Northern Cave region. Not at all. As far as combat ability, the monster known as Red XIII was nothing special.

But what made Red XIII stand apart from the other specimens in the lab was its unnaturally long life span. Its species, had they not been wiped out, could have easily surpassed one thousand years of age. Perhaps longer.

And Hojo couldn't help but wonder… how?

How did the specimen's cells not degrade at the same rate as every other living being on the Planet? How did its cells continue to divide at the same rate, perfectly and without mutation, continuously for hundreds upon hundreds of years? How did its body restore itself, cure itself of any blemish that comes naturally with age, for that amount of time?

Hojo needed to know. Needed to know _desperately,_ and though he had pitched the study of Sample Red XIII as being a way to enhance the SOLDIER program, he had another objective.

He wanted to live that long, too.

And so he continued to watch Red XIII lie in its cell. The red-furred beast appeared relaxed and seemingly bored, if it were not the hard look in its one unscarred eye, and Hojo had no doubt that Red XIII would attempt to kill him if given the opportunity. But he didn't mind. If anything, it made the experiment all that more exciting.

Without warning, the laboratory door slid open.

 _"There_ you are," called a feminine voice, which effectively tore Hojo from his thoughts. "I have been looking _everywhere_ for you."

A vein pulsed in Hojo forehead as he turned to glare at Scarlet, who had sauntered into the lab as if she owned it. As if it were not a sacred place of study but instead a red carpet, one with adoring fans pressed against its side, calling her name.

"Scarlet," Hojo deadpanned.

Scarlet grinned. "Oh, don't glare at me like that." Her smile was sharp enough to cut glass. "I came here _especially_ to see you."

"If you're hear to inform me of any of your petty squabbles, I don't want to hear it."

She laughed at that; a sharp, piercing laugh that ricocheted off the walls and grated against his ears. She had a specific kind of laugh, the sort that made him _feel_ things. Things like _disgust,_ and _hatred,_ and _annoyance._ "So you _hadn't_ heard the news," she continued, her voice practically a purr. "Lucky me."

"Scarlet, I do not care what you have to say," Hojo stated matter-of-factly. "I do not care for office politics or gossip, and if you _must_ share, then go share with Reeve. He's the only one patient enough to deal with you," he added in a grumble, "and _I_ , unlike _you_ , am busy and value my work." With that, he turned his attention back to Red XIII, who had pricked an ear up at the conversation. "Leave."

Scarlet dramatically sighed. "Such sharp words..." Her ruby-red lips pursed in distaste, and without another word, she handed Hojo a rectangular display screen.

Hojo arched an eyebrow at it. "What is this?"

"You'll like it," Scarlet said flatly. "Trust me."

"I trust this specimen more than I trust you," Hojo replied, yet his curiosity got the better of him, and he took the screen.

Scarlet leaned against the wall and, crossing her arms over her generous chest, scowled and said, "You're welcome."

Hojo glared at her before turning on the display. Shinra's logo flashed onto the screen as it loaded, but then the image suddenly changed. All of a sudden he was looking at a photograph, an extremely blurry one, with a geostamp and serial number printed on the top right-hand corner. The geostamp declared the image from Loveless Plaza, Sector Eight, Midgar, and so he immediately assumed that the snapshot had been lifted off of an infantryman's body camera.

Hojo loudly sighed. "I don't have time to review footage off of Shinra grunts, Scarlet. As I have said before -"

"Oh, stop whining and _look_ at the image," Scarlet snapped. "You think I would _really_ want to come to your disgusting laboratory just to show you crap?"

Hojo's lips flattened into a thin, white line, and he turned back to the image. It was far too blurry to make out any distinct shapes, and what he _could_ see was irregular and shadowed, with the exception of two bright-green orbs hovering in the center of the image.

And then it clicked.

 _Mako eyes,_ Hojo knew immediately. _SOLDIER eyes._

Hojo held the screen a bit tighter. Now that his mind had a point of reference, the face surrounding the luminous eyes quickly became apparent. He could make out eyebrows knitted in concentration. Dark hair whipped back in the wind. White teeth pulled back in a snarl. A cross-shaped scar, just dark enough to stand out against the man's jaw.

And just like that, Hojo knew _exactly_ who was in that photo.

 _Sample Z,_ he realized.

_The specimen is alive._

Scarlet grinned at his reaction. "I thought you might have enjoyed that."

But Hojo didn't respond. He was far too lost in the workings of his own mind, the memories, the stark realization that Samples Z had _not_ been killed outside of Midgar. That somehow, one way or another, Sample Z had survived - _and possibly Sample C as well,_ Hojo thought, a slow grin sharpening his lips. He gaze flicked to Scarlet, and the intelligence with them – that mad fire – burned bright beneath his owl-like glasses. "When did you get this?"

"Earlier today, actually." Scarlet leaned against the wall and crossed her arm over her full chest. Her diamond bracelet was dazzling, even beneath the lukewarm laboratory lights, and her smile was even more so. Most men would have fallen to their knees before that smile. In fact, many had, but it's shine was lost on Hojo. She knew that, yet she smiled just the same. "It's amazing what sort of pull the head of the Weapons Development department has."

"I'm sure."

"But enough of that. Yes, your previous specimen seems to be alive and well – and in Midgar, no less," Scarlet said.

Hojo frowned. "So it seems."

"But that's not all I wanted to show you. Swipe to the next picture." Scarlet leaned forward, and her red dress shifted against her hips like water. "If you liked _that_ one, then you'll like this one even more."

"You don't get order me me around in my own lab," Hojo told her, but obediently flicked to the next image anyway.

This photograph, while not quite as blurry as the one previous, depicted a very different scene. According to its geotag, it had been lifted off of a security camera within Mako Reactor One's mako storage tank, and the timestamp dated the image as just minutes before the entire reactor blew.

Hojo's eyes flicked across the screen. Within the image were two men seemingly holding their own against a Scorpion Sentinel, a weapon Hojo had conceptualized before gifting to Shinra's Advanced Weaponry Division. The sentry-like robot appeared to be heavily damaged, with long tears cut into its metal and limbs hacked away as if with a machete. Bullet holes peppered its sides, and as Hojo shifted his gaze to the two men fighting it, he quickly realized why. One of the men, the much larger and darker of the two, had a prosthetic machine gun grafted to his arm.

Meanwhile, the other man seemed responsible for the long rips and tears along the sentry. His gunblade was angled behind him in preparation to strike, and his body - thin, lean, and pale - was twisted as if dodging bullets.

Hojo's gaze lingered on this particular figure. His eyes flicked across its form, taking in the familiarity, before resting on its face. At its messy blond hair that stuck up in every which way before traveling further down, taking in the grimace etched onto its features, and its eyes -

\- its luminous, mako-stained, slitted eyes.

Eyes that reminded Hojo of Sephiroth. Of JENOVA. Of his REUNION hypothesis.

Hojo's eyes widened a fraction as realization hit him like a bucket of cold water.

_Sample C?_

But that was…. Well, that was impossible. Sample C had gone catatonic due to severe mako poisoning, to the point where Hojo wouldn't have been surprised if Sample C had remained vegetative the rest of its shortened days. Therefore, there was simply _no conceivable way_ Sample C should even be awake and alert, let alone be holding a weapon and fighting against one of Shinra's most powerful mechanic weapons... and winning.

And yet, there Sample C was. Awake. Alert. And with slitted eyes, just like Sephiroth's had been. Not even the _successful_ REUNION samples hadn't been able to accomplish that.

Hojo ran a thin hand along his chin. Perhaps he had been a bit… _hasty…_ to label Sample C as a failure. Perhaps he should have held on to Sample C a bit longer, just for observation, just to see what would happen.

 _But,_ he thought as a thin, sharp smile curved Hojo's lips, _better late than never._

"The only reason I recognized your precious specimens," Scarlet said, dragging Hojo out of his thoughts, "was because I recalled when you offered to sell the two of them to the _my_ department, back in your experiment's early stages. Prior to labeling them as failures as disposing of them, of course," Scarlet added offhandedly. Casting Hojo a heavy-lidded gaze, she continued, "As you know, I _never_ forget a pretty face."

But Hojo hadn't seemed to have heard her. "I want all of Sample Z and Sample C's old files," he ordered, without giving her back the display screen. "All of them. Unearth them from the Nibelheim manor if you have to, but I need -"

"What makes you think you can order me around in _your_ lab?" Scarlet interrupted. Hojo immediately went silent as she pushed herself off of the wall, and her bracelet glittered beneath the laboratory lights as she casually waved in his general direction. "If those files are so important," she continued, "go get them yourself. I'm done here."

Hojo scowled at her as Scarlet walked to the door, but not before she briefly paused outside of Red XIII's cell. "Hi, kitty," she purred. Red XIII growled in response, and she released a long, shrill laugh – one that echoed in the laboratory long after she had left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: this chapter's first edition was just over 3000 words. Now we're just under 8000. Not entirely sure how that happened!
> 
> I know that this chapter doesn't include our favorite boys or flower girl (I'm sorry!), but I promise that I'll make it up to you next week! I've already started working on the chapter, and it's making me so emotional... I'll start posting previews on my twitter ( Rand0mSmil3z) so if you'd like to see them, feel free to follow :) You can also find my other books & a link to my ko-fi account there, too!
> 
> \--
> 
> Next chapter will update next Friday on August 7th. Until then, stay safe and healthy, and I wish you all the best :)


	17. Three Words and Song Birds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Lab Flashback in the Zack POV (marked by separators), Lots of Fluff
> 
> \--
> 
> Happy Friday! As always, I hope that everyone had a good week :)
> 
> So last week we didn't see our favorite boys or flower girl at all, and I had promised to make it up to you --- I hope this chapter delivers! It's a ridiculously long one this time around, but that just means we're a little bit closer to Wall Market. I am so excited.
> 
> Enjoy!

_"This way."_

Aerith's voice was calm as she guided Zack and Cloud through the dark Sector Eight backroads. She knew these alleyways well, and had taken them often when she had wanted some quiet after spending all day selling flowers. So she knew that the Sector One cargo station was close, just a five minute walk on foot.

 _But considering the present company…_ She bit her lip. _Maybe it'll take closer to ten._

She tried to ignore the harsh whir of a helicopter flying nearby as she glanced over her shoulder. "We're almost there," she faintly smiled, and Zack nodded in acknowledgement. He was following close behind her with his hand splayed protectively along Cloud's back, which served to both guide the younger man along and make sure he didn't trip and fall.

And Cloud… he was looking worse and worse the further they went. Pale, unsteady on his feet, and his eyes – strikingly bright and luminous from the mako poisoning – were glazed and unfocused as he stumbled forward. Though, every once in a while, his gaze would slide to Zack and he would jolt, as if seeing him for the first time.

 _"Real?"_ Cloud would quietly ask. And Zack, without missing a beat, would smile and reply: _"Yeah, buddy. I'm real."_

And then Cloud, after a long pause, would smile in response – a small, almost timid, but honest-to-god smile – before his expression would slacken, his gaze would drop to the ground, and the process would repeat.

Over and over and over.

"How much further?" Zack asked. His voice was quiet, almost gravely, and Aerith could hear how tense he was. How tightly his nerves were coiled, and it made her want to reach back and place a hand on his shoulder, or her palm against his cheek, or brush her fingers through his hair – just to offer him a little bit of comfort.

Instead, she slid her hand back and laced her fingers within his own, squeezing slightly. "Not far," she promised. "Maybe ten minutes more?"

"That sounds good," Zack murmured, and squeezed her hand in return before they separated. They separated partly so that she could resume guiding them through the complex network of backroads and alleys, but it was also because Zack needed to give Cloud his full attention. Cloud was struggling; the closer they got to the freight station, the closer they were to the ruined shell of Mako Reactor One, and the less responsive Cloud became. And as the mako fumes and scent of smoke had grown more pungent, the more heavily he leaned upon Zack. The more his footsteps stumbled on the ground. The more he flinched from lurching shadows, and each time, Zack provided some form of comfort.

_"It's okay Spikey, I got you."_

_"Yeah, I know, I don't like that sound either."_

_"Watch out for that box. We wouldn't don't want to trip and sprain an ankle, now wouldn't_ that _suck right now."_

Aerith couldn't help but notice just how… _natural_ Zack was at caring for Cloud. It was as if he had settled into some sort of routine as they hurried through the alleys, and it had come so easily to him. As if it he had done this often.

 _And he had,_ she quietly reminded herself, even as the realization twisted something within her. _At one point, this was his every day._

But she also noticed something else as they walked; that Zack, while he was hyper-focused on Cloud, was neglecting himself a little. He, like Cloud, also flinched from the explosions. Also wrinkled his nose at the harsh scent of mako, and his eyes also jumped from shadow to shadow, looking for threats, searching for escape routes. The only difference was that Cloud, in his mako-poisoned haze, relied on Zack to decipher it for him. Meanwhile Zack had... no one.

It broke her heart.

Resolving to be that person - that person that he could rely on, completely - she once again slowed her pace and reached back, grasping Zack's hand within her own. "We're almost there," she promised with a faint smile.

Zack squeezed her hand appreciatively, and this time, he did not let go until they had reached the freight station, which was just as empty and rundown as Aerith had known it would. The streetlights, the few that still worked, were dim. The road was cracked and in desperate need of repair, and the freight trains – all neatly lined up on their separate tracks – were old, with some rusted permanently in place. Graffiti had been scrawled up and down their lengths, and it added splashed of color to the otherwise eerie, dreary, dark station.

In fact, the only indication that the station was not abandoned completely was a small outpost, which was situated directly beside the rows upon rows of tracks. Warm light spilled out from underneath its closed door, and Aerith could see a silhouette moving behind the closed curtains.

"Now what?" Zack murmured beside her. He had gently set Cloud down against one of the empty trains, and the mako within Cloud's eyes burned unnaturally bright and hot as he lazily looked about the station - the tell-tale sign of a mako poisoning relapse. Zack knelt beside him, his brow furrowed with worry, his lips set in a thin line. "Do we just… get on a train? Or..." His voice trailed off.

Aerith dusted off her dress, but only managed to streak the pink fabric with gray ash. "I'll talk to Geoff and explain what's going on," she replied. "He can help us."

"Geoff?"

"I sell flowers to him, sometimes. But anyway, he'll be at the conductor's station, so I'll just say hi, tell him the situation, and then I'll come right back. Okay?"

Zack's eyes widened with alarm. "I'll come with you," he said hurriedly, already moving to stand. "What if -"

"It's perfectly safe, I promise." Aerith placed her hands on his shoulders and gently guided him back down, so that he was once again kneeling beside Cloud. He looked up at her, every bit the wounded puppy, his mako stained eyes bright and confused. "I can take care of myself, you know," she added with a soft smile. "Besides, I think Cloud needs you the most right now."

Zack bit his lip. "But -"

"I'll be right back, Zack." A sudden breeze brushed against her, pillowing her dress and sending her hair spilling over her shoulders. "I promise."

Zack watched her for a moment, brow furrowed, his mako-stained gaze luminous in the dark. Then, after a lengthy pause, he finally sighed and said, "All... All right." He eased himself fully to the ground, right beside Cloud. "But..." He lifted his head, and his gaze – his torn, conflicted expression – told her everything that he wanted to say, but couldn't. "Come right back?"

"I will," she promised, and planted a small kiss on his bare temple. She could hear his sharp intake of breath, could feel him go rigidly tense beneath his gentle touch, and her breath warmed his temple as she said again, "I'll be right back."

Zack thickly swallowed. "O... Okay."

And with that – and one last, briefly shared smile – she began to head for the outpost and hoped to the gods above that Geoff was on shift tonight.

He was.

"Aerith!" Geoff shot to his feet the moment Aerith had pushed open the small outpost door. Geoff was a larger man, as he spent most of his days holed up in the conductor's outpost watching the few trains roll in and out of the weathered station. Still, he dressed surprisingly nice; full suit, coat and all, and a small-rimmed hat the shadowed his dark eyes.

As for the outpost itself, it wasn't much to look at. It was little more than a single room with a large window overlooking the trains, and was currently filled with empty chip bags and the lingering stench of cigarette smoke. But still, Aerith pretended not to notice it when Geoff walked towards her and enveloped her in a right hug. "What the hell are _you_ doing here – pardon the language," he quickly added, pulling away, though his large, calloused hands never left her shoulders. "This is no place for a lady such as yourself, especially not on a night like this. The reactor blew. It's - It's _dangerous._ Your mother must be worried sick."

Aerith winced at the thought. "Yeah, about that... I was actually hoping to ask you for a favor."

Geoff's expression shifted. "What _sort_ of favor?"

"Well..." Gods, where did she even start. "The thing is… when the reactor blew up, a friend of mine was caught in the explosion got hurt." Wasn't exactly a lie; she just didn't mention that Cloud was the one who helped blow it up. "And since the Sector Eight passenger station was far away, and the road was dangerous, we ended up coming here instead. And I was _hoping..._ "

"You need a ride down," Geoff quickly summarized.

Aerith wrung her hands. "Yeah, kinda. Me, and... two others."

"Hmm." Geoff watched her with a curious expression. "Well, none of my business. Next train leaves in an hour. You're welcome to board, as long as we keep this between ourselves, understand?"

"Perfectly," Aerith promised, before continuing, "And also, do you have any sort of first-aid kit? For my friend."

"First aid kit?" Geoff rummaged through one of the cupboards. "I do – small, though. Think it'll be enough?"

He handed her the first aid kit, and it _was_ small. It only contained a few bandaids, one roll of bandages, and antiseptic spray.

"It'll be enough," Aerith said, hoping that that was true. Cloud's arms needed to be bandaged, and he had the nasty cut on his cheek as well... Closing the first aid kit, she added, "Do you have any potions, by chance?" Potions were uncommon and expensive, and Aerith knew that the chances of Geoff having one were slim-to-none. But still... as far as she knew, they were the only thing that eased the symptoms of mako poisoning. So she had to ask. She could at least do that.

Geoff arched an eyebrow. "Potions?"

"Well… my friend, the one who got hurt. He also has mako poisoning."

Her voice trailed off, because she didn't need to say anymore. Geoff's expression had darkened considerably, and he finally said, "No, I don't." He smoothed out the rough stubble on his chin, his gaze thoughtful. "Is your friend nearby?"

"Yes, he's just outside."

"Show me."

Aerith bit her lip – _Would Zack be okay with that?_ she wondered _–_ but then decided, _He and Geoff would have met anyway, once we boarded the freight train._

Coming to a decision, she said, "Follow me."

* * *

Usually, Zack liked looking up at the night sky. He enjoyed the vastness of the stars, the eternity of it all, the way the sweeping, blinking expanse blanketed the entire world. After he and Cloud had escaped the lab, it had been a comfort to know that Aerith was somewhere beneath that same exact sky. That even though she was over a continent away, they were sharing the exact same stars.

And during his many sleepless nights, when the sky was clear enough and the area was relatively safe, he would stare up at the stars and find patterns between their empty spaces. There were a few constellations that he was particularly proud of: His house, buried within that glittering tangle above him, was one. His Buster Sword was another, with three bright stars forming the hilt and five more forming the blade itself, but his favorite was a blooming flower that hung, suspended, over the general direction of Midgar. He had crafted it out of a swirling, dusted nebula, and it symbolized everything that he wanted: a _flower_ for Aerith, and _Midgar_ was where Aerith was. So when the twisted nightmares and haunted memories kept him awake at night, that twinkling flower was where his gaze would naturally gravitate towards. His tired eyes would trace its curved edges, the empty spaces between its blinking stars, and he would imagine that Aerith was tending to her own flowers. That she was okay and safe and happy. And it was a gentle thought, one it gave him a small measure of comfort where there was none.

Tonight, however, he kept his gaze firmly fixated on the ground. The ground was safe. Boring. _Normal_ , which was a striking contrast to the blooming fire and mako-stained smoke scraping the sky above him. Zack _hated_ that green glow. Hated what it reminded him of, and he hated its smell most of all. That metallic, ozone scent that had burned his nostrils for _four_ _years_.

And what a long four years it had been. It made Zack's stomach twist just thinking about it.

 _But things will be better now,_ he reminded himself as his gaze slid to Cloud – his best friend, his lab buddy, his brother by choice. _I'll make sure of it._ His eyes followed the light curve of Cloud's cheeks, taking in just how shallow and pale they were, before coming to rest on Cloud's glazed expression; on his too-bright, too-luminous, mako-burnt eyes. The mako poisoning was flaring in a bad way, but Zack tried not to focus on it on too much. Sure, Spikey wasn't feeling super hot right now, but he was alive and awake, and that was an improvement.

_Right?_

"Hey, Cloud," Zack murmured, unable to take the silence any longer. He shifted Cloud slightly against him, just as he had so many times before, and Cloud moved easily against him. "I guess you beat me at becoming a mercenary."

Cloud slowly blinked, the sound of his name tugging at his consciousness. "...Zack?"

Zack managed a thin smile. "That's me."

Cloud's gaze slowly slid towards Zack's face. "R – Re..." His voice was a hoarse, a dry rasp irritated by both smoke and mako fumes. "Real?"

"Yeah, buddy." Zack attempted a smile, but it was tight and painful and everything a smile shouldn't be, so he ruffled Cloud's hair instead. "I'm real, I promise." Cloud's head bobbed limp beneath his palm. "You gonna ask me that all night?"

"Bu… But…" Cloud's voice trailed off as his eyelashes fluttered, fighting for consciousness.

"But?" Zack prompted.

Cloud's eyes, which had fallen to Zack's chest, slowly drifted back towards his face. "But I…" he murmured, stumbling over the worlds. "I – I saw... _"_

"What did you see?" Zack asked when Cloud's voice trailed off once again.

Cloud swallowed again. "Saw… Saw _blood..._ " His eyes suddenly widened, the mako within them flaring hot enough that their natural blue was entirely swallowed by green. "Blood on – on the st – stairs, and there... _there_ …!"

 _He's talking about the Nibelheim reactor,_ Zack realized. _When Sepheroth cut me down._

And just like that, all of the pieces fell together. _That's why Cloud thought I was dead,_ Zack suddenly knew. _He just assumed I had bled out or something... and now he thinks that I'm a hallucination._

"Hey hey hey," Zack soothed, even as Cloud's hands flew to his temple. The metal pads on his fingertips dug into his skin, threatening to bruise, and Zack quickly gathered up Cloud's hands in his own. Just to make sure he wouldn't accidentally hurt himself any more than he already was. "It's okay, it's okay. I'm here. I'm alive, I promise. I'm _real._ "

 _But wait,_ Zack thought, even as he continued to hush Cloud, who's breaths had gone ragged and erratic. _That doesn't make any sense though. Cloud_ knew _I survived. We were in the lab together, he knew that I was there. Hell, our cells were right next to each other. So why..._

 _Of course._ The answer hit Zack far harder than any bullet. _The mako poisoning. It gave him... amnesia, or something. Probably. Maybe?_

"Cloud, it's okay, it's okay," Zack continued to repeat. "I got you; you're safe now."

But Cloud didn't seem to hear him. His hands spasmed in Zack's grip and his breaths came in short, tight gasps – gasps that were occasionally punctuated by a small whimper.

A whimper that Zack had heard before...

* * *

… _and he could only watch as Cloud squirmed against the metal table. His too-thin body had been stripped of clothes, and he had been strapped down with metal bands – not leather, not anymore, not after Zack ripped them off the last time._

_"Don't touch him," Zack snarled as Hojo strode across the lab room. Like Cloud, Zack had been similarly stripped and strapped down to a table; for what, he could only guess… but he tried not to. Tried not to guess. He didn't want to go there – to start guessing like that, to imagine what horrible thing Hojo would do to them next. It wasn't good for him. It put him in a bad place, made him fall apart, and he couldn't go there. Not again. Not when Cloud needed him so… so desperately._

_As always, Hojo ignored Zack. Instead the mad scientist walked right up to Cloud's table and stared down at him. Zack could see Cloud's wide, terrified eyes reflected in Hojo's wide-rimmed glasses._

_"Hmm… yes," Hojo finally said, and his voice grated against the walls themselves. "The injection of JENOVA cells appears to have inhibited the cellular development of the specimen – or rather, Sample C," he corrected for the recording. "This finding is supported by the study of the subject's cellular structure, in which the JENOVA RNA is passing into the subject's nucleus, replicating using the host's own transcriptase, and then passing through the plasma membrane as a single packaged unit. This unit is then seems to travel to other host cells at random, thus becoming self-replicating… much like a virus," Hojo finished, his tone amused. "Yes, very much like a virus."_

_Cloud, having understood nothing but 'JENOVA cells' and 'virus,' stared up at Hojo in horror._

_"You here just to give us a lecture?" Zack demanded, trying to pull Hojo's attention away from Cloud. Let Hojo experiment on_ him _for once. He could take it._ "Or _just to hear yourself talk?"_

_But he went ignored, as usual. Hojo did not casually speak to his subjects, and instead continued, "However, the JENOVA self-replication model lacks specificity, and its replication appears to be very much random. There is no, for lack of better word, control." And with that, Hojo then pulled a vial out of his pocket – one, Zack noted, that had a very long needle attached to the end._

_Cloud immediately went very, very pale and very, very still._

_"For experiment forty-eight," Hojo said to the recording, "I hypothesis that the addition of S-Cells into Sample C's internal carotid artery, and thus to the brain, will firstly induce a reaction similar to previous REUNION samples, but will secondly introduce order to the JENOVA cellular self-replication model. In three..."_

_He unscrewed the cap of the needle, and Cloud shifted against the table, terrified. "No," he whispered. "No, please."_

_"...two..."_

_"Don't you_ fucking _dare!" Zack screamed._

_In a much quieter voice, one punctuated by grating, gasping sobs, Cloud begged Hojo not to do it._

_"...one…"_

_Hojo placed the needle against Cloud's neck. "No, no, no," Cloud muttered even as the tears slipped down his cheeks. "No, I can't, please, I can't do thi-" His voice ended in a small gasp as Hojo slid the needle in, and then he whimpered. Loudly. It was a harsh, low sob that nearly dragged something similar out of Zack._

_"Injection complete," Hojo said into the quiet._

_Zack tore at the metal bracers holding him to the table. His vision had gone red, his veins white-hot. There was a roaring in his ears. "I'll kill you!" he was screaming, and his voice drowned out the softer sound of Cloud quietly crying, too far gone to be embarrassed by it or care who was watching anymore, and Zack tasted copper. He thrashed all the harder against the metal…_

* * *

"… Shit," Zack gasped as the flashback abruptly ended. He pinched his fingers against the bridge of his nose, against the dampness gathering there. _Shit, shit, shit._ This is why he tried not to think. Tried not to get inside his own head, because it was a mess in there, and he -

_"Z – Zack?"_

"I'm here, buddy," Zack automatically replied. His face felt hot, and he quickly wiped his eyes even as he forced his lips to smile, forced his shoulders to relax. _Remember: be strong._ "What's up? You doing okay?"

Cloud was looking up at him, and had seemingly forgotten his earlier distress. His bleary eyes had also lost a bit of their brightness, which was a good sign, but now he simply looked… exhausted. He could hardly keep his eyes open as he murmured, "O...kay?" He paused, blinking slowly, expressionless. "You... sad?"

Zack's eyes widened in surprise. _He noticed._ He didn't think Cloud was aware enough to notice anything happening around him, and the realization had his lips tugging into another small smile. "Don't worry about me," he said, voice low. "I'm okay. Just remembered something… not very fun."

Cloud stared at him for a long, drawn-out moment. "Not… fun?"

"Nope. Not even a little bit."

"Sa...ad?"

 _Fixated on that, huh?_ Zack's smile softened. _But of course he is._ During the first few months of the lab, Cloud had been the same way – hyper-aware of anything and everything Zack had said or did, and all because he had caught Zack in the cell over tearing up about having a dream of home.

The memory had Zack blinking at the ground. That night, Cloud had made shadow puppets against the wall to help him get his mind off of things. Apparently it had been something that Cloud and his Mom had done together when he had been little. Bears, deer, rabbits, birds… Cloud could make any shape with his delicate fingers, even when Zack requested more and more challenging ones. Making a wolf had been particularly hard for him; Cloud hadn't been able to get its snout _quite_ right, and it tugged a dry chuckle out of him even as he wiped his eyes.

"Sorry, buddy," he murmured. "Not sure why I'm getting so emotional right now." He looked down at Cloud, who continued watching him with a glassy, glazed expression. "Just remembering too much at once, I guess."

Cloud's brow furrowed slightly. "Remem...bering?" he finally echoed. His voice was so quiet, even Zack - with his enhanced hearing - strained to hear him. "Bad…?"

Zack almost laughed at that. "Yeah, some of it was bad." Gods, a lot of it had been bad – _worse_ than bad – and the memory of Cloud strapped to that fucking metal table surged once again to the forefront of his mind. Zack nearly choked on the memory, and couldn't stop himself from pulling Cloud in tight embrace against him; just to reassure himself that Cloud was okay, that he was here, that he was awake. _Co-dependence_ echoed somewhere in his mind, but he ignored it. At this point, he was justified. Too much had happened _not_ to be.

Cloud made faint noise of protest, the sound muffled against the crook of his neck. "Sorry, Spikey," Zack murmured, even as he pulled the smaller blond in closer. "I know you're not a big hugger, but… but humor me for a second, okay? Just…" He shakily inhaled. "Just for a second."

There was a lengthy pause, then: "Mmph… 'kay..." Cloud's body relaxed as he allowed Zack to hold him, too deep in the mako-poisoning flare up to fully understand what was happening. "S – Sad?"

Zack slowly inhaled. "Just some bad memories, Spikey." He shifted Cloud against him so he was less draped against his chest and face mushed into his shoulder, but instead more upright, a little more seated. "But it's done now," he continued as he met Cloud's bright, mako-laced, glassy eyes. "It's over."

Cloud slowly blinked at him, his expression slack. "Ov… ver?"

"That's right. Over," Zack stated, and he pulled Cloud against him once again. Cradling him, like he had every time Hojo had thrown Cloud into his cell with the order to _calm the specimen down._ Cloud made another faint noise of protest.

"Sorry." Zack immediately easing his hug – must have squeezed a little too tight. "But it's over, in the past, and it's only uphill from here, Cloudy." Zack attempted a grin. "Though I _still_ can't believe that you beat me at being a mercenary. That was _my_ idea, you know."

He felt Cloud's eyelashes flutter against his neck, the teasing lost on him. "My… idea…?"

"No Spikey, _my_ idea. But I guess we can share that one." Zack shifted his weight against the train wheel, trying and failing to find a more comfortable position. "We had a lot of good ideas, huh? Remembered when I told you, back out in the middle of gods-forsaken nowhere, that we were going to form a band?"

Cloud faintly sighed. "B – Bad..."

"No, buddy. A _band,_ not _bad._ "

But Cloud wasn't to be swayed. "Ba… bad… s - singer," he finally managed. " _Bad._ "

Zack's eyes shot open, but then he laughed. The sound echoed through the train yard. "Yeah," he said, grinning. "I guess I am a pretty bad singer, huh?"

Cloud blinked, long and slow, before his lips twitched into the smallest of smiles.

And, damn it all, seeing that cheeky little grinalmost made Zack tear up again.

"And we can't have a band if I can't sing, huh?" Zack continued, blinking the moisture out of his eyes, still grinning. "Unless _you_ want to be the singer."

After a lengthy pause, Cloud huffed. _"Bad..."_

Zack's grin broadened. "I'll take that as a _no,_ then. And I think the mercenary idea is a bust, too." Zack shifting Cloud again so that the younger blond was again cradled, with his shoulder and head tucked against Zack's chest and legs sprawled against the ground. "You blew up a mako reactor – which we'll be talking about later, don't you worry – and I busted some Shinra heads a little while ago." Which, looking back, was pretty stupid of him to do. "So maybe we should stay low for a while. That would probably be the smartest thing to do, huh?"

"...Mmm..."

Zack glanced down at Cloud, though he could only make out the top of his blond, ash-flaked hair. "You're not falling asleep on me, are you?"

Cloud shifted slightly, deeply inhaling. "Nnnn…."

"No, huh?" Zack hummed, low in his throat. _Liar._ "Well, since you're not _falling asleep_ or anything, is there anything in particular that you want to do now when you feel a little bit better?" When Cloud didn't reply, Zack seamlessly continued, "How about we celebrate your birthday? Or _actually_ , you know what? We can celebrate _both_ of our birthdays." He grinned, growing excited now. "We missed a bunch, you know. Like, way too many. Think we can get away with buying a cake for every year we missed?"

Cloud blinked, long and slow. "Miss...ed?"

"That's right, we missed a bunch. Like, hang on, let me do the math. You were sixteen when we went to Nibelheim together, right? So that would make you..." Zack added the years on his fingers. "Damn, you're twenty-one now, huh? And that would make me... twenty-three. _"_ He paused, wincing a little. "That's… That's a lot of birthday cake."

That seemed to get more of a reaction out of Cloud and he shifted again, the movement erratic and jerky. "Twenty… Twenty-one?" Cloud managed, his voice a low stammer.

 _Uh-oh._ Zack heard it in Cloud's voice – that unsteady meekness, meekness that eventually gave way to a full-blown panic. "How about we think about that later?" he offered, brushing Cloud's choppy bangs out of his eyes. Cloud blinked against the touch, momentarily distracted by something other than his age. "It's really not a big deal, I promise. Trust me."

But it _was_ a big deal, because if Cloud was surprised that he was twenty-one… then he probably had no idea how long they were in that lab together, right? Or how much time he had missed?

_Wait._

Zack suddenly felt cold, as if he had swallowed ice-water, as a new thought occurred to him.

 _How much does Cloud know?_ He looked down at Cloud, wide-eyed. _How much of the lab… do I have to tell him?_

And then: _Should I even tell him?_

Zack bit his lip. Maybe… Maybe it was better to _not_ remember. To just… happily forget everything and anything that had happened in that lab, because really, was any of that worth remembering?

_But of course, if Cloud found out what had happened all by himself…_

He winced at the thought. _That's worse,_ he decided. _Far worse than me just... telling him._

"...Zack?" Zack gaze dropped to the top of Cloud's head, at the blond hair that was nearly white in the dim lighting. Cloud's upset over his age had once again passed; his breathing had slowed, and his chest gently rose and fell as he fought against his mounting exhaustion.

"Yeah, buddy?" Zack asked. "What's up?"

"R… Real?"

"Yeah, buddy," he promised. "I'm real."

Cloud seemed to mull this over for a bit, his lips pressing together, before he finally sighed and closed his eyes. His head lolled against Zack's chest. _"Real..."_

Zack felt his eyes prick again, and he used his fingers to brush Cloud's hair out of his eyes; a distraction, but at this point, he wasn't sure for who anymore. "You better feel better soon," he quietly said. "Okay? We got… a lot to talk about."

Cloud didn't even stir against him, though he did mumble, "A... lot..."

"Yeah, buddy," Zack replied as he lifted his head towards approaching footsteps. "A lot." The footsteps sounded close, and he instinctively pulled Cloud closer to him even though he _knew_ that it was probably just Aerith and her friend; and Cloud, hearing the same thing, didn't protest when he was squeezed again Zack's chest.

Aerith appeared a moment later, and she was followed by a larger man. He was well dressed despite the location, and also had a kind, weathered face. _Geoff_ , Zack guessed immediately. The guy she had apparently sold a lot of flowers too.

"Back," Aerith said. In her hands was a small white box, and she handed it to Zack. "Here – a first aid kit. For Cloud."

Zack took it; it felt light, but it was better than nothing _._ "Thank you," he said honestly as he opened the kit. First he checked over the bandages, ensuring that they weren't dirty or torn. "I appreciate it."

"Of course," Geoff replied. "Us slummers have to take care of our own." His voice was just as Zack had expected it; low and gritty, like he had been made for the mountains instead of a dirty train yard. "So," he continued, "the blondie is your injured friend?"

"That's right," came Aerith's smooth reply.

Geoff made a low sound before turning his attention to Cloud. "Those are some nasty wounds you got there, son."

Cloud, recognizing that he was being addressed directly, only pressed himself a little harder into Zack even as his gaze dropped down to his arms. Zack was holding one arm and spraying disinfectant onto the abused skin, and Cloud slowly blinked as if seeing - and feeling - the multiple, tiny cuts for the first time.

"Ow," he finally mumbled.

"Sure looks like an ow," Geoff agreed before turning to Aerith. His tone quieter, he added, "He's the one with the mako poisoning, I take it?"

Aerith pursed her lips. "Yes."

"Shame, that." Geoff turned back to Cloud, his expression unreadable. "He look. young."

"He is," Zack replied, trying to keep his tone civil. Of course Cloud was young; hell, they all were. "When's the next train coming?" He began to dress one of Cloud's cleaned arms with the bandages. "Are we good to go?"

"Yeah, you're all good to go." Geoff scratched at his stubble. "An' I told this to Aerith, but I'll tell you, too. The next train arrives in about an hour. It'll be carrying a shipment of Junon Juice and Rocket Town Fizz, and it'll be a full load, so jus' find a spot near the door and keep your head low."

"We'll be careful," Aerith promised.

"What Aerith said." Zack inspected Cloud's arm, double checking that he didn't miss anything, before moving onto his other arm. He tutted when he saw that it was equally torn up, though it was already half-healed, with thin scabs covering most of the shallower wounds. "That looks like it hurt," he murmured before lifting his gaze to Cloud's cheek. "That, too. What the hell happened, buddy?"

"I'll leave you two to it, then," Geoff said, but Zack only half paid attention as he further inspected Cloud's cheek. "I gotta keep an eye on the radio, but I'll come back out when your train arrives, yeah?"

"Thanks, Geoff," came Aerith's soft reply. "We appreciate it. My mom will, too."

A blush dusted Geoff's cheeks as he walked away, his hand lifted in a wave.

It was only when Zack could no longer hear Geoff's footsteps did he allow himself to relax, if only slightly. Cloud, however, remained stiff and tense.

"You got beat up pretty good," Zack said, trying to keep Cloud distracted, to keep him from growing panicked again. "Try to eat a metal railing?"

Cloud slowly lifted his hand to touch the cut, but Zack gently grasped Cloud's hand and held it firm so he could continued cleaning it. Cloud didn't seem to notice. "Bul...let?" he finally managed to say.

Zack nearly choked.

 _"A bull-!"_ he started, but quickly caught himself. Though, there was no helping how his body went taunt, a rubber-band intent on snapping, and his voice was equally tight as he muttered, "A bullet, huh? And what about your arms?" He was proud of how calm he sounded, how collected. "What happened there?"

Cloud blinked at them, and there was no recognition in his gaze. "Th...There?"

"Yeah, Spikey. Your arms. Got lots of cuts all over them."

"Um." Cloud slowly blinked. "Glass?" He didn't sound very sure.

"Glass, huh?" Zack frowned as he inspected them again. It sure didn't _look_ like just glass. Looked more like bomb shrapnel, though maybe a window pain had exploded? A few had been blown out from the fire, and the thought of Cloud being hit by that had him grimacing.

He only remembered to smooth out his expression when Cloud made a noise, low in his throat. "B – Bad?"

"No, no, definitely not bad," Zack said quickly as he cleaned Cloud's other arm. "It'll heal up quick, especially with how much mako you have in you. But how about we talk about it tomorrow?" he offered when Cloud's nose scrunched at the word _mako_. "Let's just… worry about getting on that train for now."

"And I bet my mom has already made dinner," Aerith added, kneeling beside Cloud. Cloud's glanced at her, slow and lazy, far too out of it to even be remotely embarrassed at being curled up and babied in Zack's lap. "We had some pumpkins growing in the garden, and I think she used one to make pumpkin soup."

Zack's stomach immediately tightened. "Gods, I love pumpkin soup," he said as he began dressing Cloud's other arm. " _Especially_ with a little nutmeg and cream on top."

"You've had pumpkin soup before?" Aerith's eyes sparkled. "With nutmeg and cream? _You_?"

"My mom used to make it, whenever we got a shipment in." Zack turned his attention to Cloud's torn cheek; it was clear that someone had tried to clean it before, but had done a poor job of it. Blood was smeared across his pallid skin in rusty streaks, which made Zack's stomach turn just looking at it. Grabbing the antiseptic, he continued, "Well, we didn't have pumpkin soup often, though? Only when a new shipment came in, which happened… I dunno, year or so? And we could only afford one pumpkin, since it was kinda expensive."

"You couldn't just grow it yourself?"

"Nah, Gongaga had the wrong weather or dirt or whatever. Who knows." Zack dabbed Cloud's cheek, drying it, before slowly placing a bandage over the cut. "I sure don't," he added before saying to Cloud, "Now don't touch that, okay? It has to stay on if it's going to heal properly."

Cloud made an unintelligible sound in response.

"So," Aerith continued, moving to sit beside Zack, "what _does_ grow in Gongaga, anyway?"

"You're asking the wrong person," Zack chuckled, leaning against the hard train wheel. Now that Cloud was taken care of and calm, he allowed himself to relax... if only slightly. "But let me think. Let's see… Have you ever heard of a Kaipo Mango?"

"Kaipo?" Aerith repeated, the word foreign and strange on her tongue. "No, what is it?"

Zack hummed. "Well, it's a pink fruit. About the size of a hand, maybe? It used to grow by the waterfall near the village, and during the summers, I'd sit in the branches and eat the mangoes until I got sick," he added with a faint chuckle.

"I can imagine that." Aerith rested her chin on her knees, grinning. "Are they sweet?"

"Very sweet." Zack's eyes grew distant at the memories. "And sticky. My mom would get so mad," he recalled, laughing, "because I'd wipe the sap on my shorts and end up staining them. She'd have the worst time washing it out, apparently."

Cloud's eyelashes fluttered. "Mm..."

"Yeah, Spikey?" Zack glanced down at him, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "You had some Kaipo Mangoes too, remember? You seemed to like them."

"Mm..." Cloud's fingers twitched as he tried to spit the word out. "Mm… _Mom..."_ His eyes widened a fraction as he suddenly shifted, as if trying to stand, even though he could barely hold his head upright. "Mm… _om..."_

Zack winced. "Shh shh shh," he soothed, even as he gently forced Cloud to lay back down. Cloud's eyes jumped to his own, and Zack nearly grimaced at just how brightly the mako within them glowed. His mako poisoning was probably flaring up again. "You're okay. You're safe, buddy. That was a long time ago."

Cloud only blinked at him, his eyes too large, too bright, too young. "B – bu..."

"The train will be here soon," Aerith said, placing a hand on Cloud's good cheek, "and then we'll get on the train and head home." She glanced at Zack, the confusion in her eyes - _Why did Cloud get so upset just now? -_ before she turned back to Cloud and continued, "There'll be pumpkin soup on the table, and after we eat, there'll be a warm shower and soft bed upstairs. How does that sound?"

Cloud, sufficiently distracted by the picture Aerith had painted, slowly blinked at her. "B… Bed?" he repeated, stumbling over the word.

"That's right," Aerith said, smiling. "A big, fluffy, soft bed. Does that sound good?"

 _That sounds hella good,_ Zack wanted to say.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Cloud's eyes finally fluttered shut. "Good…" he mumbled, before his breathing slowed and his head gently thudded against Zack's chest as he passed out.

"Cloud?" Zack couldn't keep the worry out of his tone. He shifted, moving to hold Cloud a little more upright. "Hey buddy, are you -"

"Zack, it's okay," Aerith gently told him. "He's just asleep. He looked exhausted; he was probably fighting to stay awake this entire time."

Zack blinked. "Oh," he said, brilliantly. _Of course he was. The mako poisoning…_ He shook his head, almost chuckling at himself.

"Some rest is probably the best thing for him," Aerith continued. Her smile soothed over some of Zack's anxiety, even as she placed her small hand against Cloud's forehead. Cloud didn't even stir beneath her touch. "He _does_ has a small fever, though -" Zack immediately tensed, "-but nothing a good night's rest won't fix."

Zack slowly exhaled."You think so?"

"I know so," Aerith said matter-of-factly before snuggling against Zack's side. She felt warm against him, a perfect fit. "He'll be okay, Zack. Really."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know, it's just..." Zack sighed. How could he explain it; how could he summarize the past year on the run, where the constant fear that Cloud would stop breathing in his sleep would keep him up at night. "I just wish… I wish that…" _I w_ _ish that none of this had happened._ "I wish that I could have done a little bit better. Taking care of him, I mean."

Aerith hummed. "I think you're doing a good job, honestly."

Zack nearly scoffed. "How so?"

"Well, just look at Cloud." Aerith tilted her chin towards Cloud, who was curled up on Zack's lap. His eyes were closed as he breathed, deep and even, and his expression slack – almost peaceful. "Look at how much he trusts you," she pointed out. "If you had done a bad job taking care of him, I don't think he'd fall asleep like that. Do you?"

"You never know," Zack grinned, though there was little joy behind his smile. "He _was_ pretty exhausted."

"Hmm… Maybe, but I don't think so." Aerith placed her hand on Cloud's forehead, once again checking for a temperature; and once again, Cloud didn't stir. "You saw how he watched Geoff; Cloud didn't trust him at all. In fact," she added, turning to face Zack directly, "I think the only person he _really_ trusts is you, Zack."

Zack managed a weak smile. "That doesn't sound very healthy." _In more ways than one,_ his mind brutally added. After all, it had been his order to finish Sephiroth off that had got Cloud in this entire mess to begin with. And if Aerith was right, that he was the only person Cloud really trusted…

…. Well, it just sounded like a horrible idea, really.

But here they were.

"I just hope Cloud gets better soon," Zack said, breaking the quiet. He gently leaned to the side and rested his cheek against the top of Aerith's head, and her soft hair smelled like smoke and flowers. "Thank you," he said after a lengthy pause. "For being here."

He could feel her smile, and then felt her fingers interlocking with his own, holding his hand. Keeping him grounded. "Of course," she said, and her voice was a whisper in the night. "You doing okay?"

He squeezed her hand and, after another lengthy pause, murmured, "Yeah… I'm doing okay." He then tilted his head so he faced the top of her head, and her hair tickled his lips. "How about you? Doing okay?"

Aerith hummed, and he could feel the faint vibration against his cheek. "Well, I'm kinda in the mood for some pumpkin soup, to be honest."

Zack blinked… and then he laughed, deep and low. "Pumpkin soup _does_ sound good," he agreed. "I'm starving."

"Me too." Aerith tilted her head up to look at him, and he couldn't help but smile. "Think Cloud would like it?"

"Definitely," Zack immediately replied. "Believe me, if he could eat what the infantry mess hall served _and_ whatever I fed him during our, ah, one year camping trip, then he can eat some homemade pumpkin soup."

Aerith's low laugh rumbled through him. "You sound very sure."

"I'm _positive,"_ Zack emphasized… and then he realized that he was smiling. An honest, real, happy smile. That, somewhere during the conversation, he had begun to feel a bit lighter. That the pieces that had begun to crack and splinter within him and begun to mend, ever so slightly.

The realization had Zack's eyes pricking, and had him squeezing her hand three times. Three times for three little words, words he couldn't dare say out loud… at least, not yet. Not yet, because when he _did_ say them next, he wanted them to mean more than just a… a feeling of his. He wanted them to be a _promise._ A promise of everything he had said to her, things like meeting her again, and staying with her, and showing her the sky, and fixing her flower cart, and… and everything else he hadn't been able to do, because the choice had been taken away from him.

But he was here now, wasn't he?

Didn't that mean something?

"Thank you," Zack said thickly. "I mean it. Really."

His voice had been muffled by her hair, but Aerith understood him anyway. She glanced up at him and smiled, her eyes bright beneath the flaming sky above them, and it squeezed something with Zack's chest. How many times had he imaged that exact same smile while submerged in a mako pod? Or strapped down to a metal table? Or sitting in his cell, cold and alone and wondering when the lab assistants would drag Cloud back?

How many times?

And each time, that smile had seemed so far away, so distant and untouchable that it had seemed more like a dream. That he could only get so close before it would slip through his fingers, like chasing smoke, like chasing wind.

And yet here she was.

Smiling at him. That same smile that he had dreamt of so many times.

And damn if he didn't squeeze her hand three more times – _I love you –_ and maybe another three times after that – _I love you –_ because he had so much to say to her, so much he needed to tell her about how much she meant to him, and how she was there for him even a continent away – _I love you –_ but it all got caught in his throat and burned his eyes, until all he could choke out was, _"Thank you."_

_For being there._

_For waiting for me._

_For everything._

And Aerith leaned her head into his shoulder and murmured, "Of course, Zack." The sky, bright with mako-laced fire and smoke, bloomed above them. "Of course."

* * *

_Cloud dreamed._

_He knew it was a dream, because he was sitting at the kitchen table watching his mom cook dinner, and that was impossible. Impossible, because he had arrived in Midgar months ago and was now assigned to the Shinra Security Guard sect, Unit B. It hadn't been what he wanted, exactly - SOLDIER First Class was his goal - but, still. Maybe it was a good idea to get some experience in the infantry first. Get some real battle knowledge before attempting the grueling SOLDIER exam._

_But in the meantime…_

_Cloud pillowed his head with arms, his eyes never deviating from his mom's back. A slow, content smile curved his lips._

_...Maybe this dream wasn't so bad._

_"So?" Mom said, her voice sweet and happy and, as always, seemingly all-knowing._ _"Are you going to tell me how your day went, or are you going to have me guess?"_

_Cloud grinned into his arms. "Guess."_

_His mom's laughter filled the room, and... brought tears to his eyes? He quickly wiped it away, mortified. What the hell?_

_"Okay, fine, I'll play along. Mmm..." She thoughtfully stirred the pot of stew, her finger tapping against the stone countertop. "Did you see Tifa today?"_

_Heat immediately kissed Cloud's cheeks. "No."_

_"Oh?" He could hear the grin in her voice, that all-knowing smile. "Really? Are you sure?"_

_"Yes, I'm sure," Cloud huffed._

_"Okay, okay." She laughed again at his expense, but there was no malice behind it, no bite, and Cloud found himself grinning again despite himself. She wouldn't figure out what he did today, not in a million, billion years. "Then… did you go to the mansion again? Even though I specifically told you not to go there?"_

_"No." A slimy feeling twisted inside of him at the mere mention of the Nibelheim Manor. No; he definitely did not go there._

_"Good." She hummed, thoughtful, before setting the soup ladle down. Wiping her hands onto her white apron, she said, "Okay, then if you didn't see Tifa and didn't go to the mansion... Did you go to the reunion?"_

_Cloud lifted his head out his arms, his lips pursed in a frown. "Reunion?" That sounded... familiar, somehow. Though he could not remember why._

_"That's right. The reunion."_

_With that she turned, facing him for the first time, and_ _Cloud immediately went cold._

That's not Mom.

_The thought snapped across his conscious like a whip and he shot upright, the chair clattering behind him. "Who are you?" he demanded. "Where's my mom?"_

_The woman facing him only smiled. Her lips as thin as cracked glass, and her skin was a pale, sickly blue, almost as if she was a recently drowned corpse or had been half-frozen in the winter snows. But it were her eyes that made Cloud's mouth part in horror. They were red, the exact same shade as blood, and the color was so vibrant that he could almost taste iron on his tongue..._

_... and electricity suddenly crackled through Cloud's head. The sharp static rolled within him, the sound high pitched and grating like a thousand birds bursting into song at once, and he clenched his teeth against it. "Re..." A sudden throb pierced his temple and he winced, his hands flying to his temple with a strangled gasp. "Re...Reun...Reunion..." he gasped out._

_"That's right, my son." The pale figure took a step closer to him and caressed his cheek with her palm. "Now say my name."_

_The static in his head rose in a sharp crescendo; but the song clashed, the notes snapped midair, and the pieces shattered somewhere in his head. He winced. "Je..."_

_"Who am I?" the woman demanded; but suddenly it was not the pale woman but his mother, her thumb brushing against his cheek, soothing him. "Say it."_

_Cloud's lips parted, and a shuddering breath passed between them. "Jeno..."_

_"Say it, Cloud. I know that you haven't forgotten."_

_Cloud's eyes glazed over. "Jen...nov..."_

_"Did you really think that you could forget?" she asked -_

_\- and his eyes snapped open, the mako bursting around his slitted pupil._

_"Mother," he breathed._

_His mother's smile widened further…_

_… and the world faded into white._

* * *

_"We're almost home, Spikey."_

Cloud's eyes fluttered open, and sensations immediately began to filter into his fragmented mind; mako-burnt eyes looking down at him, concerned yet soft. A strong hand splayed against his back. A strong arm cradling his legs. His head had lolled against something firm, and when he managed to turn his head, the first thing he noticed was that the world was dark.

_"Oops. Sorry buddy, did I wake you?"_

_"Hush, Zack. Let him sleep."_

He blinked once, slowly, trying to process it all. Trying to understand. But there was a fog in his mind, thick and heavy and he was lost in it. He couldn't find a way out. Couldn't find anything to grasp onto; all he could do was taste smoke on his tongue and _mako,_ so much mako, that his ears _roared_ with it… which sparked the memory of the reactor explosion so clearly, so violently, that he cried out.

Immediately, he was enveloped by warm arms.

_"Hey hey hey. Shh. It's okay, Cloud. I got you, everything is fine. You're safe now."_

There was a low, strangled sound, as if it had come from underwater.

_"Yeah, I know it's dark and this sucks, but we're almost home, okay?"_

Home.

Cloud's mind snagged on that word: _Home._ Sephiroth had – he had burned down his home, killed his Mom, killed Zack, and…

… and Cloud's thoughts grated to a sickening stop, and his gaze jumped to the mako-stained eyes above him. Searching. Searching for something familiar, but the world had a strange shine to it, all soft edges and a nauseating brightness...

_"Za..."_

_"Yeah, Spikey. I'm here, I promise."_ Cloud felt the hands around him tighten again, pull him into something like a hug _. "I'm real, okay?"_

Real.

Cloud's eyes burned. Burned so bad, and he hung onto that little word - _real_ \- with everything he had before it could slip away from him again, before it could fade into the fog swirling around in his head. Because the fog was so thick, everything was so fuzzy and bright, that he closed his eyes against it...

… only to open them again when he felt something cool against his face. It took him a moment to realize that it was the wind, and another moment to realize that the world was swaying around him, a gently rocking he dimly recognized as being carried.

The hands around him suddenly tightened. _"Awake again, huh? Sorry, was I walking too fast?"_

But the words, little more than a tangle of syllables and consonants and noise, immediately faded from Cloud's mind as he turned his head. They were walking up a dirt road, and he could just make out flowers on the path beside them. Yellow ones, red ones, blue ones, and it softened something within him. Tugged at something buried deep, though he did not know why.

_"Aw, Cloud. What's wrong?"_

He didn't know. He didn't know what was wrong, only that something inside him hurt. Hurt so badly that he wanted to scream, but mostly, all he wanted was for the hurt to stop. He was _choking_ on it.

_"Shh. It's okay. You're okay, everything is fine. And we're almost to Aerith's house – as soon as we get there, let's get you something to eat, okay? Personally, I'm starving."_

But the words were rapidly losing meaning, meaning and substance and…

…and then it suddenly got bright, and Cloud again squeezed his eyes shut as he tilted his head to the side, into whatever he was leaning again, where it was dark and warm and safe. _Safe._ He craved that safety, that stability, because now there were new voices; both feminine, one more lilting, the other a little more firm, and he didn't know who they were. Friend? Enemy? Threat? He didn't know. He didn't _know…_

 _"Hey hey hey, it's okay, Cloudy. I know, it's a little bright, so we're just going to go upstairs for a second, okay?"_ There was movement; the sound of boots against wood, the faint jostling as they ascended a flight of steps. _"And Aerith and her mom will bring up some soup in a bit. How does that sound?"_

He didn't know, he didn't know, he didn't know.

_"And how about we get you cleaned up? You've really been through it. And Elmyra – that's Aerith's mom, by the way – gave me some more bandages for you. And a potion! It's a little stale, but it should do the job. Be sure to thank her tomorrow, okay?"_

Cloud's felt something being unwrapped off of his arm, felt something being gently peeled off of his cheek. Heard something being twisted, followed the sweet pitter-patter of rain. The sound lulled him. Was familiar somehow, and it eased something within him. Soothed the cracks that were spiderwebbed across his conscious.

_"But you should probably eat something before taking the potion. Wouldn't want you puking it, huh? Now that would really suck."_

There was a sudden chill as his bare skin was exposed, and then he was being eased into the falling rain – _a shower,_ his mind suddenly, desperately grasped. _A shower._ The water was warm as it slipped down his skin and dripped down his hair into his eyes, and he allowed himself to be maneuvered, adjusted, balanced as something soft ran across his skin. Dried blood trickled down from his various wounds and mixed with the bathwater, staining it a faint pink.

_"There – looking better already, huh? And..."_

There was a knock. A hum of voices, and then the sound of something being creaked open. The soft drone of conversation, and then the door was being closed again. Cloud tried to turn his head towards the noise, but he was too tired, too weak, he couldn't move…

 _"Got you some clothes, and a towel,"_ came a dry chuckle. _"Should have thought of that before I stuck you in the tub, huh?"_

But the words were drowned out by the shower, their meaning forever lost. But he didn't care. He was tired and the world was too bright, it hurt to to look at, and he blinked once more - the water running down his cheeks like tears - before closing them entirely...

...only to suddenly be pulled into awareness once again. A faint sound escaped his lips as a hand, cupped against the back of his neck, slowly lifted him upright.

_"I know, I know, you're tired. But you really need to eat something, okay? A few bites, a drink of potion, and then you can go back to bed."_

Though Cloud's mind was still fumbling over the words, his stomach tightened in response. Twisted. Demanded.

There was a faint chuckle. _"See? You were hungry._ _"_ The bed creaked, and then he was gently being set against the headboard. He slumped against it, boneless, before being readjusted. " _Here – pumpkin soup, as promised. Hope you like cream."_

Something brushed against his lips and he parted them on instinct. Warmth flooded his mouth, followed by spices, herbs, something rich and creamy and _right;_ and the flavor drowned out the metallic taste of mako and smoke, the coppery blood, and he closed his eyes against it.

Another laugh. _"Not too bad, huh?"_ A clink of metal against ceramic, then: _"Want some more?"_

Once again, something brushed against his lips, and he immediately parted them. Each bite further muted the metal taste against his tongue, filled him with warmth, and… and exhausted him.

He wasn't entirely sure when he closed his eyes; all he knew was that his eyes were suddenly opened again, and something like a whine escaped his throat.

_"I know, I know, I'm sorry. But you need to drink some of this potion, okay? You can go back to sleep after, I promise."_

But he didn't _want_ to. He wanted to sleep _now,_ because he was full and warm and there was something soft underneath him, and he felt… he felt _safe…_ and it was finally _quiet…_

 _"You gotta finish at least half of this,"_ came the voice again, and then something cold was pressed against his lips. _"Then you can pass out. Deal?"_

Cloud squeezed his lips firmly shut in response.

There was a sigh. _"Please, Cloud?"_

Something wavered inside of him, and after a moment, Cloud allowed his mouth to be parted. A hand rested against his neck, tilting his chin upright as something thick and cold was slowly poured down his throat…

… and it tasted _exactly_ like metal. Like metal and blood and smoke and ash, and harsh, overpowering birdsong exploded in his mind. The sound was high and lilting, a tangle of shrieking noise that hit him so suddenly and so violently that it had him jerking upright. He sputtered, the thick liquid dribbled down his chin as he spit it out, and his legs seized; it was a wild kick, desperate and raw, a feeble attempt to push himself away.

It was too much, too much, he couldn't – he _can't_ …!

_"No no no, please Cloud, you have to drink it. I know it's disgusting, but you'll feel better afterwards, I promise."_

But it was metal, liquid metal and he was submerged in it, drowning beneath its warmth and it _burned._ Burned his eyes, burned his skin, and he thought he heard something tap against the glass…

_"Za…a...ahh..."_

_"Shit."_ The same voice, tight with emotion. _"I don't understand, it's hurting him, why would -"_

 _"Try mixing it with the soup."_ A second voice, higher and feminine, but it sounded far away. _"Maybe he doesn't like the taste."_ It was far away, too far, he was drowning…

_"Yeah… Yeah, let's do that, could you hand me..."_

And then something else was forced into his mouth, and he fought against it. _"I know, I'm sorry, I know..."_ Warmth trickled past his lips, and while the metal taste was still there, there were other things too. A sweetness, a creaminess, a warmth that was so different from mako that it had him pausing. If only for a little bit.

There was a sigh from somewhere nearby. _"How's that, Spikey? Was that a little bit better?"_

The sound of a thousand birds faded from his mind as the taste of pumpkin overpowered his fragmented thoughts instead. He inhaled, and his lungs expanded with air instead of thick water.

_"Look, see? Mixing it with the soup helped."_

_"Looks like it…"_ There was a sigh, tired and exhausted. " _But anyway, Aerith, are you sure this is okay? Us staying here for the night?"_

_"Of course it is. Don't worry about my mom, okay? I'll talk to her some more. You just focus on Cloud."_

Cloud blinked at the sound of his name – a name he recognized, because the fog was clearing again. A strange warmth was expanding deep within him, and the hopeless tangle of sights and sounds and feelings were slowly reordering themselves, aligning in a way that made sense. Something – a small, glass vial – was removed from his lips, and as the warmth further pooled within him, he noticed other things. He was sitting on a bed. Zack was sitting on a chair beside him, brow furrowed and eyes bright with worry. Another girl, her name lost, watching him with a light frown. A bowl of soup on the nightstand.

He licked his lips. "Za...ack..."

Zack immediately shifted closer. "Yeah, buddy? How are you doing?"

"F..." Cloud fumbled for the words he wanted, struggling to drag them out of the murky dark. "F...fine..."

Zack blinked, dumbly, before he ducked his head with a faint laugh. "You and I," he said slowly, "have very different definitions of fine."

Cloud managed a faint smile at that, but it slipped almost immediately. His conscious was fading and the world was descending into the dark, down, down, down…

Zack helped Cloud lay flat against the bed, and adjusted him so that his head rested on a pillow. Cloud's gaze followed him, his eyelashes fluttering as he fought to stay awake, just a little while longer. Just to make sure that... that this really _was_ real, that he wasn't hallucinating anymore. "Get some sleep," Zack told him. "I'll be right here if you need anything, okay?"

Cloud's eyelids grew heavy. "But..."

"We can talk more in the morning," Zack said. "Does that sound al-"

But Cloud was asleep before Zack even finished his sentence.

* * *

Tifa's gaze rested on her glass of water as her hands cupped its sides, pressing tightly against its sides. It dewed against her palms, chilling her skin, but she didn't dare move her hands away. Instead, she only tightened her grip to the point that the glass creaked and threatened to shatter. All the while, her thoughts that whispered:

_If only you hadn't introduced Cloud to the team._

_If only you hadn't bought him that uniform and that sword._

_If only you hadn't encouraged him to fight._

_If only you put your foot down and said that he couldn't go on the mission._

_If only you went with him._

She squeezed her eyes shut.

_If only..._

"Tifa?" A voice to her right had her head instinctively turning to Jessie, whose copper eyes were bright with concern. "You… You doing okay?"

Tifa thickly swallowed. "I'm fine," she choked out. "Just... What's the plan? Have we decided?"

"Let's go up at dawn, on the first train up," Biggs summarized. He swirled his drink in his glass, and the ice clicked together with every twirl. "There's only a few more hours to dawn, so it'll give us time to prepare."

Tifa's hands further tightened around her cup of water. _A lot can happen in a couple hours,_ she knew. Hours was how long it took her childhood home to burn down. As for her father's death… well, Sephiroth had cut him down in seconds.

"There's nothing sooner?" she whispered. Her voice sounded brittle, even to her, but she couldn't find it within herself to care. "An earlier train, or... or a cargo route, or..."

"Sorry, Teef..." Wedge, who was sitting beside her, placed a gently hand on her shoulder. "The cargo routes are locked down pretty tight. We might get caught."

"The passenger trains are the safest option," Biggs added. "Easier to blend in, and since we already have our fake IDs..."

"...We're prepared for it," Jessie finished, offering Tifa another small smile. "Plus, we know that the fakes work since we used them tonight. Cloud's, too. So it'll be easy to bring him back."

"If he's still up there," Wedge quickly added. "Who knows? Maybe he's on his way right now."

Tifa's gaze once again dropped to her water glass. Cloud... Cloud wasn't on his way here. He would have already shown up if he was, and the image of him at the Sector Six station - confused, dazed, terrified of her touch before realizing who she was - flashed before her eyes. Squeezing her eyes shut against the image, she said, "I'm going too."

Barret's expression darkened. "Teef..."

"I'm _going,_ Barret." Her gaze jumped to his, sharp and raw. "And that's that."

For a moment, Barret looked like he wanted to argue… but then he sighed, giving up. Rubbing the back of his head, he murmured, "Yeah. Yeah, all right. That's fair. But I can-"

"Out of all of us, you stick out the most," Tifa relentlessly continued. "So maybe it would be better if you don't... if you don't come."

Her words were barbed. Sharp, not like her at all, and she hated them the moment she spoken them out loud. Guilt gnawed at her at Barret's hurt expression. But at the same time... and she hated to admit this, even in the quiet of her own mind... but a part of her didn't _want_ Barret to come. He had _promised_ that he'd watch over Cloud... and that obviously hadn't happened. And it wasn't his fault. Not really, and she understood that, but… But to go on a mission with him, where trust was crucial and a _lack_ of trust could get you killed…

She wasn't sure if she could do it. Not yet; maybe in the future, once she found Cloud and made sure that he was okay, that he was all right, and this entire thing was behind them. But she needed a little more time. She just... wasn't ready for that right now.

Barret seemed to understand, and after a lengthy pause, simply leaned back against the wall. Tifa couldn't remember him ever looking so tired.

"I'm gonna have to agree with Tifa on this one," Wedge finally said. "No offense Barret, but you _really_ do stick out. You know - prosthetic machine gun arm, and all."

"How about I go with Tifa?" Biggs offered. "Or you, Wedge? We didn't go into the reactor, so maybe it'll be easier for us to go up to the top plate without setting off _too_ many alarms." He meant for his tone to be as teasing, but it only depressed Tifa more. _Cloud_ had gone inside the reactor. Did that mean that he had set off any alarms? Was someone else looking for him, besides them? "Or maybe we both can go?"

"Yeah, I'm down with that," Wedge agreed, before his expression suddenly lit up. "And once we find Cloud, maybe we stop by the pizza place on topside Sector Two? You know, as victory pizza."

Jessie shot him a dry stare. "Seriously, Wedge?"

"What?" he said, defensive. "Their pizza is good, okay? And don't tell me that you wouldn't want a slice. Or you, Tifa. Or Cloud! I bet he's never even had the pizza from there, huh? Think he'd like it?"

Tifa's gaze dropped to her glass. "He would," she murmured.

"There. Then it's decided." Wedge grinned at each of the Avalanche team members in turn. "Me, Teef, and Biggs will meet at dawn, go topside on the first train up, find Cloud, and then we'll go for pizza!"

"Can you bring some down for me?" Jessie batted her eyes, which did nothing to Wedge; he and his pizza fantasies were having a moment. "Wedge? _Hello?_ "

"What?"

"Save me some pizza."

"I'll save you a slice, Jessie," Biggs said for him.

Jessie grinned at him. "My hero," she said, before reaching out and placed her hand over Tifa's; and Tifa was so surprised that she jerked upright, wide-eyed. "And we'll find him, Tifa," Jessie told her. She squeezed the other girl's hand. "I know we will."

Tifa blinked at her, her eyes watery, before she smiled. It was a small smile, and it felt like something within her was cracking, but…

"Yeah," she managed, and quickly wiped her eyes before any of the tears fell. "Yeah, I know."

"We should all get some rest before we head back up, then." Biggs pushed himself off of the bar stool before stretching, his arms lifted over his head and back arched. "When does the first train leave?"

"5:30 in the morning, sharp," Wedge immediately replied.

"Perfect." Biggs glanced to Tifa, and his expression softened. "See you then at 5:15AM, at the train station?"

Tifa's expression hardened. "I'll be there," she swore.

Biggs' head jerked in a nod, and with that, they all began to file out of the Seventh Heaven and into the cool night. Biggs and Wedge waved goodbye, and Jessie gave Tifa a quick hug before heading to her own apartment. Tifa, after a sharp inhale, moved to follow them onto the dirt road, but Barret cleared his throat behind her.

"Teef..." he began.

Tifa bit her lip and didn't – couldn't – turn around to face him. "Yeah?" she managed.

"I just wanted to say..." His voice stalled. "Say that… that I'm sorry. For not bringing him back home. I know how much he means to you, and -"

"Don't." Tifa's voice was a hoarse whisper, one that was almost drown out by the stale breeze pushing itself across the dirt road. "Not… Not now, Barret. Please." The way he said it... it sounded too much like Cloud had died, or something. And she didn't want to think like that. Not right now, not when she was going up to look for him in a few hours. She couldn't. She needed to... to focus on the positives, instead of drowning beneath everything else.

For a long pause, all she heard was silence behind her; silence that was occasionally punctuated by a cricket, or a flickering light bulb, or a distant laugh echoing from a different bar. Then: "Okay, Teef." Barret almost sounded defeated. "Okay."

Tifa bit her lip. "Thank you," she managed to choke out, and then she was walking back to her apartment, her back ramrod straight, her throat so tight that she felt like she was choking.

 _We'll find him,_ Jessie had told her. _I know we will._

And Tifa hoped so. She really, really hoped so, because if they _didn't_ find Cloud… and if it turned out that Cloud was _dead…_

She sucked in breath.

If they didn't find him… she didn't know what she'd do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear that this is still a fix-it fic!
> 
> So in case this isn't translated well into the story, what Cloud has been going through since basically the reactor mission is a mako poisoning relapse; basically, he had been slowly piecing himself together ever since Tifa had found him, but his mind wasn't nearly stable enough to be exposed to so much mako in the reactor (not to mention the fighting, explosion, hallucinations, etc) and seeing Zack alive completely pushed his delicate consciousness over the edge. But don't worry, he'll be fine! He and Zack need to have a conversation, after all.... (poor boys)  
> \--
> 
> Next chapter will be published on Friday, August 14th (follow Rand0mSmil3z on Twitter if you'd like to see previews). Until then, stay well, stay safe, and I wish you all the best 💞


	18. Spying Eyes and Stories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! I hope you all had a great week, and as always, thank you so much for the kudos & reviews! I love hearing what you all have to say, and appreciate you all so much 💖
> 
> Anyway, this chapter was a brutal one to write. If the last chapter flowed like water then this chapter flowed like chunky peanut butter, but there are only so many times I can rewrite the dialogue before I lose my mind lol. 
> 
> Enjoy the chapter 😊

Even in Midgar, the dawn could be beautiful.

The pastel sky was stained in shades of violet and rose, and the bottom of the upper plate looked as if it had been kissed by gold. The air tasted cleaner. The dirt roads hadn't been trampled yet, and so the dust remained on the ground instead of in billowing clouds that choked the air and covered everything with a fine layer of brown. The shops had not yet opened. People were not yet awake. The world held its breath in preparation for the morning, and that's the way Tifa usually enjoyed starting her day; quiet, calm, and contemplative.

This early dawn, however, was spent beating the stuffing out of a punching bag. Her wrapped hands slammed against its leather in rapid, dull thuds, bruising both its hard leather and her protected knuckles. Yet she did not stop. Did not halt her assault because she needed to be at her best today; needed to be already warmed up, in perfect form, her focus treading a razor wire because Cloud wasn't here. He wasn't here, and she needed to find him. She _had_ to.

Once she had sufficiently beaten the punching bag to a pulp, she simply took a shower and got dressed for the day. It was her usual outfit; black sports bra, white tank, black leather skirt held in place with suspenders. She also pulled on her arm warmers, and its long, black fabric was stretch taunt over her muscles as she fastened her elbow guards and red leather gloves on top.

Satisfied with her appearance, she threw the door open and made her way to the bar to meet up with Biggs and Wedge. It came as no surprise when she noticed Barret and Jessie there as well – or that she was the last to arrive, as usual.

"Good morning," she said good-naturedly as she pushed open the door. The lights were dim and cast the room, and everyone within it, in shadows. "Looks like it's an early morning for everyone."

"Mornin', Teef," Wedge said as she walked to the bar. He was sitting on one of the bar stools with a pastry in one hand and a coffee mug in the other. "Wanna bite? It's cheesy."

"I actually ate back at my apartment," she lied, "but thanks." In truth, she wasn't hungry at all. Her stomach had been doing backflips all morning. "We ready to go?"

Biggs walked up to them. "Should be," he said. Like her, he was also dressed in his tactical gear; loose-fitting cargo pants, black shirt, and an olive-green vest with plenty of little pockets. "Jessie," he added, glancing over his shoulder, "you sure the trains are running this morning?"

"I'm sure," she replied. She was sitting at one of the tables beside Barret, and seemed to be fiddling with a small radio. She twisted the dial, brow furrowed in concentration as she continued, "Might be some delays, though. Apparently the explosion caused some damage to the tracks, so some lines were re-routed."

Tifa swallowed hard. "How bad of delays?" she asked, trying to keep her tone level.

"Not too bad, considering the damage." Jessie continued to twist the dial, and the radio continued to pathetically click in response. "Maybe thirty minutes?"

 _Thirty…_ Tifa's heart sank. Thirty minutes was _far_ too long; they had to get to the upper sector _now._ Cloud had never come back last night, which meant that he was up there, all alone, all by himself. What if he had another episode? Another headache? What if he had gotten confused, like he had been when she first found him? _What if -_

She firmly shook her head. _Don't think about that,_ she ordered herself. _Focus on what you can do._

"We'll stay at the bar, just in case Cloud makes it back on his own," Barret said, interrupting her thoughts.

And he was giving her such a soft look, obviously tiptoeing around her hurt, that she couldn't help but smile appreciatively. "Thank y-"

But suddenly, he wasn't looking at her anymore. His gaze was pinned to something outside the window, his eyes narrowed and lips pressed into a thin line.

Tifa frowned - she _knew_ that look. "Barret?" she began, when he suddenly shot to his feet, startling her as he ran past and threw the door open.

"What the..." Jessie murmured. Her gaze had been frowning at Barret's rapidly departing back, but then her voice trailed off as someone behind the wall shouted:

_"Get offa me!"_

Wedge shot to his feet, pastry forgotten. "Oh _shit._ "

"Someone was listening in," Biggs murmured, standing rigidly still. His brow creased. "But... _why?_ "

With that, Barret suddenly hauled someone – a man wearing a black studded vest and red pants – into the bar, his lips bared in a grimace. "Biggs," he shouted, "get the rope!"

Biggs snapped to attention before doing as ordered, and then was beside Barret in a moment, deftly trying the man's arms and legs together. The man cursed and roared all the while, but immediately stilled when Barret leveled his gun arm at his head.

"Listen to me," Barret said coolly. The man whimpered beneath the barrel of the gun. "This can go only one of two ways – you cooperating and tellin' me what the hell you think you're doin', or you bein' difficult and then I got no choice but take this matter _outside_. _But,"_ he added, with a carefree shrug, "because I'm so damn generous, I'll let you decide which way you wanna go." His dark eyes glinted beneath the bar's dim lighting. "Understand?"

The man thickly swallowed. "I – I understand," he stammered out. "I'll cooperate, I swear it."

Jessie positioned herself to stand closer to Tifa, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. "Sucks to be him," she whispered, her voice low.

Tifa couldn't help but agree.

"Good." Barret nodded, apparently satisfied by the man's timid response. "So tell me, who the _hell_ do you work for, huh?" He knelt down to be more on the man's level, and yet Barret still managed to loom over him. "Why don't we start there?"

The man kneeling in front of Barret only paled and shook his head…

… and so Tifa decided to intervene. She took a step forward, and tugged at her gloves in a way that promised that she knew how to use them. She just prayed that she wouldn't have to. "Well?" she said, keeping her expression cool.

"Listen, you got the wrong guy," the man sputtered as he eyed the gloves faded, obviously worn, material before his gaze darted back to Barret's gun. His lower lip trembled. "I swear, I just, uh, was just lookin' around. Didn't mean to offend."

"Listen, as someone who impersonates other people for a living," Jessie frowning, hand on her hip, "I can tell when someone else is lying."

"And you're a really bad liar, bro," Wedge added as he took a sip of coffee. "Like, worse than me, and that's saying something."

Barret nodded in approval before turning back to the man, who had blanched beneath his hard stare. "You heard them," he said as he reached down to grab the man's collar. He pulled him up until his toes dragged against the floor. "So start talkin', punk. I thought you were gonna cooperate, unless you'd have it the _other_ way and we gotta go outside."

"Okay, okay!" The man practically squeaked, his eyes widening once again at Barret's prosthetic gun. "I'll talk, I'll talk."

"And make it quick," Biggs added. "We got somewhere to be."

Tifa shot Biggs an appreciative look, who met her gaze and nodded in acknowledgment.

"W – _Well,_ " the man stammered. "You see, it's kinda funny, but, uh… So I work for this one guy, yeah?"

"Who?" Barret demanded. "You better start talkin', or -"

The man yelped when Barret took a step closer. "Corneo!" he yelled. "Corneo, of Wall Market."

Jessie made a face. "Yuck. Seriously?"

"The pay's good!" the man argued, but then his expression twisted. "Okay, so maybe not that great… but the perks are good! Sometimes he even lets us-"

"I don't _care_ about the perks," Barret said, his voice low and gravely. "I just wanna know why one of _Corneo's men_ is sniffin' around our bar."

The man sharply inhaled. "There's a bounty," he said in a rush. "Dunno who posted it, only Corneo knows that, but it's three hundred thousand gil that's totally up for grabs."

Tifa's eyes widened. _Three hundred thousand…_

"Just up for grabs?" Barret barked. "How _stupid_ do you think I am, huh?"

"It's true!" the man insisted. "Bounty is just for some gun-arm guy and a blondie, last spotted in the slums. But I'll forget about the entire thing, yeah?" He licked his lips, sweating. "Just let me go and I swear, I won't say a word to no one. Swear it on my life. Deal? How about it?"

But Tifa had stopped paying attention halfway through his tirade. _The blondie he mentioned…_

Her eyes widened a fraction.

_Cloud._

And then:

_He was last spotted in the slums?_

She took a step forward, her fingers stretched against the gloves leather. "Tell me more about the _blondie_.," she demanded, ignoring Jessie's suddenly concerned look. "You said that he was last seen in the slums?"

"Y – Yeah, that's right. The slums," the man stammered, apparently relieved to be speaking to someone else beside Barret. "Dunno where though, but -" His voice suddenly climbed a shrill, shrieking octave as Barret dropped him roughly on the ground and aimed his gun, and the man squirmed backward only for his back to thud against the bar counter. " _Li – Li – Listen!"_ He kicked his legs out, trying in vain to meld into the wood at his back. "How – How about this? I'll make a deal, yeah? A good deal?"

" _What_ deal?" Barret deadpanned.

"A – A – A good one! I'll tell you everything I know about the blondie, and I'll even forget about the bounty, yeah? Like it never happened! And I won't say a word to _nobody!_ " he added, his expression lighting up.

Barret's gaze darkened for a moment and he hummed, low in his throat, before turning to the rest of the team. His eyes rested on Tifa last of all and after a brief pause, she slowly shook her head. _We can't trust him,_ said the faint movement, and Barret's eyes narrowed in agreement.

"You know what," he finally said as he turned back to the man, who look back with a pallid, yet hopeful, expression. "I think I'll do you one better."

"Any – Anything!" the man stammered.

Barret thoughtfully tapped his foot against the floor. "I think I'd rather hear about the _blondie_ from your boss."

The man blanched, and then he – to everyone's shock – laughed. " _Nuh nuh nuh,"_ he chuckled, the sound nearly hysterical. "That's _definitely_ not how it works. See, Corneo only lets _girls_ into his compound, yeah? And only the pretty ones at that, and no offense sir, but you are definitely _neither_. Now, I ain't condoning Corneo's actions here," he quickly added at both Barret and Jessie's icy glare, "but that's just how the chubby chocobo rolls, you get my meanin'?"

Barret loudly sighed. "That isn't what I was hoping to hear," he said simply, and lifted his gun again.

Tifa could hear the gears within it grind together as the metal began to heat, and the sound had her biting her lip. _Barret wouldn't shoot the guy in the bar… would he?_

"Oh _shit!"_ The man's harsh yell snapped Tifa out of her thoughts, and he slammed back against the counter, rattling the glasses. "Yo, man, that ain't cool!"

"My daughter is sleepin' upstairs," Barret said in response, "and if you don't want me to shut you up, then I suggest you do it yourself."

The man promptly closed his mouth even as his eyes darted nervously to the stairs.

"Now, as I was sayin'," Barret continued, his tone strangely calm, "that wasn't what I had been hoping to hear. I want to meet with your _boss,_ Corneo. Understand? And _you_ are going to make that happen."

"You're – You're insane," the man hissed, his voice tight as he tried to control the volume. "You can't see Corneo, you're a man! _But,"_ he added as Barret's expression darkened, "Corneo is choosin' a wife tonight! One of you'll be able to meet him like that! One of the girls over there?" he added, his gaze darting to Tifa and Jessie.

Barret's eyes flashed. " _Hell_ nah!"

"It's the only way," the man insisted as he turned back to Barret, "if you wanna meet Corneo. Has to be a pretty girl. Has to be tonight. Or else," he added, almost smugly, "you're better off jus' shootin' me right here, because you ain't _never_ gonna see him."

Tifa clenched her jaw.

"Listen here, asshole -"

"That's really the only way?" she asked Corneo's man, cutting Barret off. He shot her a quick look of alarm, a look shared by the rest of the team, but she ignored it all. She had put Cloud is so much danger – it was only fair if she did the same.

The man met her gaze and smirked. "That's right. It's the only way. And if there was another," he quickly added, his attention jumping back to the gun, "I swear I'd tell you fine people, yeah? But there ain't."

Tifa's crossed her arms over her chest, weighing it over in her mind. _How difficult could it be?_ She was a good fighter, and knew that she was skilled enough to keep herself safe. Not to mention that she considered herself to be pretty enough; not a stunner, maybe, but she kept her body in shape and she had been told by Jessie on _numerous occasions_ that she had good, well, assets. And if she pulled out one of her old dressed, maybe borrowed a little bit of Jessie's make-up…

Her hands formed fists at her side. "I'll do it," she said, and her declaration came as no surprise to anyone.

She could hear Barret's barely audible sigh, feel his frustration spark the room, before he turned back to the man and ground out, "You heard her. Now what?"

"Now she has to be chosen." The man had visibly relaxed, looking every bit as if he had won. "And then I present her to the judges."

Biggs made a face. "Holy Hades," he cursed. "Judges?"

" _Actual_ judges?" Wedge added, also pulling a disgusted face.

"Don't look so surprised," Jessie said, though she didn't look very pleased either. "This kind of reminds me of auditioning."

Wedge frowned at her. "But you _hated_ auditioning."

"I did," Jessie grimaced. "Bombs are definitely more my sty -"

" _Guys,"_ Tifa murmured, and the affect was instantaneous. It was often that Tifa chastised, but when she did…

"Sorry, Teef," Biggs murmured, offering her a faint smile.

She only shook her head. The less that Corneo's man knew of what they did… the better.

"And this judging is happening tonight?" Barret asked.

"That's right," the man replied. "But the sooner we head out, the better. You know – need to get our little lady prepared."

The room seemed to chill ten degrees. "I'm not _your_ anything," Tifa told him, her tone like cracking ice, before walking to the door. "And _I'll_ get myself prepared. Meet back here in..." She mentally did the math. "Two hours."

With that she threw open the bar door, not caring that the man was still tied up and on the ground behind her, or that the rest of the team was staring at her back. Instead she closed her eyes and tilted her head towards the dawn, which had delicately splayed itself between the upper plate and the rugged horizon.

 _Don't worry, Cloud,_ she silently whispered. _I'm on my way._

* * *

It was a peaceful morning, the sort that was so common in books but so rare in real life. Sunlight spilled in through the open window and warmed rectangles on the floor, while a soft breeze, cool and sweet, pillowed the faded curtains and rustled the bedsheets. Birdsong accompanied the wind, and the happy melody was joined by the sound of a babbling creek. Flowers brushing against each other as they waved to the morning sun. Voices, sweet and feminine, speaking to one another as they tended the small garden. In short, it was peaceful. Wonderful. Almost as if the sky hadn't been burnt red with flames just a short night ago.

Within the bedroom window, however, it was far less peaceful. Far more still. There was a heavy atmosphere here, one that not even the whispering breeze or the sweet birdsong could chase away, and it only seemed to grow heavier as the morning dragged on. It held an ominous weight. A haunting stillness. A holding of breath as the world _waited_ for something, the tense sort of waiting that made it difficult to breathe, or think, or feel.

But then Cloud opened his eyes, and the heavy atmosphere was blinked away – just like that.

_What the…_

The first thing his sleep-addled mind realized was that the ceiling was _clean,_ which had him idly blinking in confusion. It was perfectly white instead of the creamy, off-white, strangely stained shade he knew from Tifa's apartment, and there was an _actual_ light fixture dangling from its center. It almost looked like a simple chandelier, his eyes drifted towards it even as a small frown curved his lips. Floral wallpaper covered the walls and framed the wooden furniture. Potted plants arched towards the pale sunlight peeping in through the window. Paintings, messy and clearly handmade, were scattered against the floor, which had him scowling in confusion – _Tifa doesn't paint._

And then it hit him:

_This isn't Tifa's apartment._

Sudden alertness tore white-hot through his veins like a gunshot, and he jackknifed upright, his breath catching in his throat. _Where the h –_ his thought began, but abruptly cutoff as sudden lightheadedness had him sagging against the bed's headboard, blinking rapidly against the black spots sparking in his vision. He squeezed his eyes shut as he pressed a hand against his temple. _What... happened?_

When the sudden dizziness finally passed, he lifted his head, trying to take it all in. But nothing was familiar. Not the dresser, not the rug, not the wallpaper. Not even the _clothes_ he was wearing, which smelled as if they had been freshly laundered, and with a start he realized that _he_ was clean, too. Soot and ash no longer coated his skin, and he vaguely smelled of soap instead of smoke… which led to an entirely _new_ set up thoughts, none of which made him happy in the slightest.

 _But don't think about that._ He ran a hand through his hair, and his fingers roughly pulled at the golden strands. _Calm down._ _Figure out what you know._

Which, admittedly, wasn't much. He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to think back, tried to remember, but his recall was spotty at best and nonexistent at worst. The previous morning was the most vivid in his mind; he had spent it with Tifa, which had been nice, and then that night he met up with Barret and the others at the train station. From there, they had gone above the plate to carry out the mission – blow up Mako Reactor One.

A dull headache pulsed between his eyes at the memory, and Cloud pressed a hand against it, willing it to go away, willed himself to remember everything else. _And then…_ And then his recollection became less of a timeline and more of a collection of images. Fighting Shinra Security Guards. A flash of pain against his cheek. The sound of gunfire, and hurrying from one place to the next. Someone opened up the door to the reactor and then the sharp metallic tang of mako, which twisted his stomach even now, before making their way down to the reactor's core.

From there, his recall simply fell apart. All that was left were brief flashes of color. Red splashed against the sky, things falling in the street, meeting someone wearing pink. A hand on his back, helping him through somewhere dark. The faint whistle of a train. Someone _saying_ something to him, something important…

 _"...Real?"_ Cloud murmured the word before his mind had caught up, but then moment he said it, he knew that it sounded _right_. _More_ than right. He could suddenly breathe a little easier. Something inside of him wasn't coiled quite as tightly.

 _But what does that_ _ **mean**_ _?_ he wondered, turning his glare to the nightstand. _**What's**_ _real?_

But then, something he saw on the nightstand made him pause. There was a half-drunk potion there, the faint green liquid pooling within the glass vial, and it had him frowning all over again. He _did_ have a vaguely sour taste in his mouth…

 _Someone gave me a potion?_ His brow creased at the thought. _But that… doesn't make any sense._ Potions were expensive. The infantry had rationed them for a reason, to the point that only squad leaders could administer potions or high-potions so they weren't wasted on superficial cuts or bruises. _So why would a total stranger…_

He shook his head; there was too much he didn't know, and worrying about it wasn't doing him any favors. _It doesn't matter,_ he decided, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He couldn't do anything about what had happened yesterday, but he could something now. And what he _needed_ to do was, somehow, make his way back to Tifa. She was probably worried about him... _e_ _specially_ if he never made it back to her apartment last night.

He had to get back to her - _had_ to - and with that thought firmly planted in his mind, he pushed himself upright in an attempt to stand. His legs trembled beneath his weight, but they held, and he managed to hobble his way to the window. _Gotta figure out where I am first,_ he decided, and in a single, fluid motion, he flung aside the billowing curtains...

...only to gasp, wide-eyed, at the scene stretched out beneath him.

He had to rest his hands against the window frame to maintain his balance. _It's so… so green,_ he thought numbly. From the second-story window, he could clearly make out an _actual garden_ beneath him, full of vibrant vegetables and colorful plants that he did not know the names to. Beyond the garden was a rocky path, one that meandered through a flower field, over a small river, and then trailed beside a rocky face before it disappeared around the corner.

But it was the waterfall – a real, actual _waterfall –_ splashing into the river that had him blinking dumbly. Within the waterfall's spray, a glistening rainbow wavered in the air, suspended, before the water crashed into a river so clear that the bottom looked like stained glass due to the smooth, colorful rocks resting there. Small fish darted through its shimmering waters while birds waited on the muddy riverbank, their black eyes trained on the silhouettes flicking just beneath the surface. A butterfly fluttered from flower to flower beside them.

 _This is…_ Cloud thickly swallowed, trying and failing to collect his thoughts. _I'm still… Is this Midgar?_ He leaned out the open window, trying to see more of the landscape. The rocky cliffs surrounding the house _looked_ like Midgar; he wouldn't mistake that red dirt or desolate cliff faces for anywhere else, but the rest of it looked like it had been plucked out of a storybook. It didn't seem _real._

And then the door creaked open. Cloud turned to the sound instinctively, if only half paying attention; he still couldn't wrap his mind around the scenery outside. It was just so _green,_ and the river looked so _clear…_

But then he saw who had walked into the room, and all of his thoughts – all of his aimless wondering – crashed to a grating, collapsing halt. His eyes widened; the mako within them flared.

_Zack?_

It had to be. It certainly _looked_ like him, though at the same time, there were subtle differences. Zack was taller than Cloud had remembered him being- back in the infantry, the top of Cloud's head could graze his chin, but now he wasn't sure if he even came up to Zack's shoulder. But more than that, Zack looked _older,_ too. Not just his body, which had broadened and had filled out, but in his expression, too. His shadowed gaze. The hard set to his lips as he fiddled with the stuck door latch, lost in his own thoughts.

Also, another difference was that this Zack was very much _not dead._

Cloud blindly reached behind him, searching for something to hold on to, to steady himself, and his fingers numbly wrapped around the window frame. "Zack," he breathed, his heart thundering in his chest. _Not dead._ "You're…"

His voice trailed off as Zack turned to him, stunned, before his entire expression lit up. "You're awake!" Zack let the door close behind him as he impatiently set something on the bed – a tray with two bowls and a glass of water – and then he was suddenly in front of Cloud, pulling the smaller man into a tight hug.

Cloud winced as he felt bruises – guess the half potion he had taken hadn't been enough to offset all of the damage from last night.

Zack seemed to notice and immediately pulled away, expression pinched in concern. "How're you feeling?" His hands never left Cloud's shoulders as his mako-burnt eyes flicked across Cloud's face, searching for something. What, Cloud had no idea. He was still stuck on the fact that Zack wasn't _dead._ "Better?" Zack continued. "Anything hurt?"

Cloud tried to respond, but just… couldn't. The words got trapped in his throat and sat there like metal barbs, pulling and tugging and ripping all the while, as old memories flicked across his eyes; blood staining a metal staircase, blood dripping from a sword, the mako in Zack's eyes going dim as he died. _Died,_ because _nobody_ survived losing that much blood. No body _he_ knew, anyway.

Until now, apparently, because here Zack was. Standing in front of him. Worrying about him. Wondering if he was okay.

"You – You're… You're supposed to be _dead,"_ Cloud finally choked out.

Zack blinked before he smiled and said, his tone teasing, "Well, sorry to disappoint."

Cloud violently shook his head. "No, I'm not… I just can't believe it." He lifted a hand to his head, and didn't notice how Zack's eyes had narrowed at the gesture. "What… _How_? _How_ , Zack? I thought for sure that you were..."

"That I was dead?"

"Well..." Cloud's fingers pressed against his scalp, an unconscious motion. "Yeah."

And with that, the room descended into silence. The tense sort of silence that made it hard to breathe, and then Zack suddenly sighed. He let his hands slip off of Cloud's shoulders, which had Cloud blinking at the sudden loss of weight, before he ran a hand through his dark hair. Cloud frowned at the sudden changed in his demeanor.

"You'll probably want to sit down for this," Zack finally said, his smile fading into something almost apologetic. There was a look in his eyes that Cloud had never seen before; it was shadowed, haunted, with an almost fragility that had Cloud sucking in breath.

Suddenly, he very much did _not_ want to sit down. "Why?" he asked, almost defensively. "What happened?"

"What happened? Well..." Zack paused, worrying his lip for a moment, before he sharply exhaled. " _Shiva_ , I don't even know where to start. But," he continued, suddenly changing topics, "you should probably eat something. You passed out before you could finish your soup last night."

"Soup?" Cloud echoed as he sat down on the bed. _Last night?_

Zack handed him a ceramic bowl, one filled with what looked like plain oatmeal. "Yeah, pumpkin soup. You seemed to really like it. Elmyra made it, by the way," he added. "Aerith's mom."

Cloud frowned, holding the bowl tightly in his hands. Truth be told, he _was_ hungry; he hadn't even realized he was until Zack had said something. But, still. Eating was pretty low on his list of priorities. "Who?"

"Elmyra. This is her house, and..." Suddenly Zack laughed, low and dry. "Well, again, it's a long story. But we'll get there, I promise." He had grabbed a similar bowl and had sat down on the chair beside the bed, and now chewed his oatmeal thoughtfully, his mako-stained eyes luminous in the pale morning light. Suddenly they flicked to him, causing Cloud to almost jolt – and once again, Cloud was struck by just how _not dead_ Zack was.

"You should take a bite, by the way," Zack said casually. "It'll help you feel better."

"I'm fine," Cloud said automatically, though he obediently took a bite of oatmeal, if only to collect his thoughts because there were just so _many._ So many that he suddenly felt with crystal clarity, and he was having trouble sorting through it all. "Really. I'm fine."

"You said that last night, too," Zack chuckled, which had Cloud lifted his head in surprise, but then Zack's tone changed; the lines around his mouth deepened, grew more severe as he leaned forward, his own oatmeal forgotten. "But tell me honestly, Spikey," he said, almost haltingly. "How are you feeling? Any… headaches? Fuzziness? Anything hurt at all?"

Only the faint bruises that the potion hadn't fully healed yet, but Cloud had the sense that that wasn't what Zack was asking about. "I'm fine," he said again, and added at Zack's worried look, "I promise. I… feel a lot better, actually." It was true; he could actually think _clearly_ again, which was already a massive improvement. "But… But I'm just wondering how..."

_… How you survived._

But his voice trailed off, and he could not longer spit out the words. "What happened?" he finally said instead. "Why am I here? How are _you_ here?"

"It's…" Zack sighed. "It's a long, sad story, buddy. To be honest, I'm not sure if you even _want_ to know."

Cloud's brow knitted in confusion as he hastily swallowed oatmeal. "What? Why?"

"Like..." Zack rubbed the back of his neck again, which was rapidly looking like a nervous tic of his. His heel bounced against the floor. "Like, what do you remember?" he finally said. "After Nibelheim?"

"After Nibelheim?"

"That's right," Zack affirmed. "Do you remember anything?"

Cloud let the spoon rest in the bowl. Nibelheim he could remember in vivid clarity, no matter how hard he tried not to, but as for what had happened _afterwards..._ "Not much," he finally admitted. Shame kissed his cheeks a faint pink, though he did not know why. "Just the… train station. I was wearing hospital clothes and, um…" He shifted his weight slightly. "Um, Zack, was I in a hospital?"

"Yeah, for a brief time." Zack faintly smiled, almost as if there was a joke somewhere in there. "But then you checked yourself out."

Cloud's heart sank, and the spoon clicked against the bowl's ceramic. "Do you know," he murmured, his voice barely audible, "what I was in the hospital for?"

"What you were in for?" Zack's gaze narrowed at Cloud's tone; strangely enough, he almost sounded _defensive._ "Spikey, what do _you_ think the hospital was for?"

"Um. For, um..." _Gods,_ just _thinking_ about it made his stomach twist itself into knots. "For… well..." He winced, the pressure mounting within him, because he _had_ to ask. Had to say the words out loud, because if he didn't he'd _always_ wonder. "Did I... Did I go crazy?" he finally said. The words came out in a rush; the building pressure had found a seam, a crack in his walls, and all of a sudden the words were tumbling out of him; a waterfall, much like the one he had seen outside the window. "Because there's something wrong with me," he said, nearly tripping over the words. "Since Tifa found me, I've, um, I've been seeing things, and hearing things, and -"

\- And then there was a hand on his shoulder, and everything that Cloud had been going to say – everything he had been thinking since Tifa had found him – short circuited. He nearly flinched at the touch.

"Cloud, there's _nothing_ wrong with you," Zack said, almost angrily. "Listen, the hallucinations are from _mako poisoning._ Not from you, okay? So don't think that there's _anything_ wrong with you, because there's _not._ "

Cloud's eyes pricked with heat, and he ducked his head before Zack could see. "But I -"

"I _swear_ it, Spikey." Cloud felt Zack squeeze his shoulder, once, before letting go. "You told me that you're feeling better today, right?"

Cloud idly stirred the oatmeal in his bowl. "Yeah..."

"That's because I made you drink half a potion yesterday." Zack's mako-stained eyes never drifted from Cloud's expression – one that he was doing his best to hide. "Potions help with the symptoms of mako poisoning, like the hallucinations and whatnot. And you can keep taking the potions until all that excess mako is out of your system, and then you won't have to take them anymore."

Cloud dared to lift his head. "Really?"

"Yes, really. I swear it." Zack leaned back in his chair, and though his heel still bounced against the floor, he managed a small smile. "May take a little bit of time, but you'll get there. So don't worry about it, okay? There is _nothing_ wrong with you, Cloud. I promise."

Damn if Cloud's eyes didn't burn again; but this time, he had to turn towards the window to hide it.

"How..." His voice sounded tight, almost to the point of cracking, and he quickly cleared it. "How did I get mako poisoning?"

Silence was all the answer he got, and after several tense moments, he dared to look back at Zack… only to see that Zack was staring at him, wide-eyed, with that same haunted expression he had walked in with.

"Um..." Cloud's voice sounded unnaturally loud in the suddenly silent room. "Are you okay? Did I... say something wrong?"

Zack suddenly blinked, and abruptly shook his head. "No no no," he said quickly. "Nothing wrong. It's just, that… You really don't remember anything... do you?" And he said it with such a hollowed-out smile, that Cloud felt guilty when he finally shook his head _no._ Sure, he remembered a few things – like Tifa finding him at the station – but that wasn't what Zack was talking about, was it? He didn't think so.

Zack, after another long moment, finally sighed. "Well, I guess if you're gonna hear about it, I'd rather you hear it from me." With that he lifted his gaze, and the mako flared hot in his gaze. "Unless," he added, sounding almost hopeful, "you don't want to?"

"I do," Cloud said quickly.

"It's… It's not a happy story, Cloud." Zack grimaced. "Trust me."

"I can take it."

"I know you can... but that doesn't mean that you have to."

"But I want to." Cloud gripped the bowl a bit tighter. "I… I want to know."

"Cloud..."

"It's not _fair."_ Cloud glared at the oatmeal, as if it had personally insulted him. "If it's that bad, then it's not fair that you remember and I don't. I should remember it, too." He felt his cheeks heat up; he was never good with words, let alone using them to try and comfort someone else, and his inability was embarrassing. But at least he was trying. That counted for something, didn't it? "And maybe telling me about it would help you feel better," he added in a rush. "Maybe."

Zack said nothing for a long while, only stared at him wide-eyed and slack-jawed, until he suddenly chuckled. Cloud's cheeks heated further – _Is he laughing at me?_

"I forgot how stubborn you are," Zack finally said, shaking his head. "It's been a long time since we've actually had a conversation."

And just like that, Cloud's embarrassment shifted into something more like dread. Zack's statement was a worrisome one. _Very_ worrisome, in fact, and it made Cloud anxious all over again – but he tried returning Zack's smile anyway, just to prove that he was okay with it. That he was _fine._

"That's right," Cloud said, attempted to keep his tone lighthearted. "So you should probably start telling me."

Zack held onto his smile for a moment longer before it faltered and slipped away… and then he did, neatly summarized into the most poignant highlights.

"After Nibelheim, we were brought to a lab," he slowly began. He had leaned forward in the chair, his hands were clasped on his knees. The knuckles were white from strain, and yet his tone was almost bland. As if he didn't care at all. "Not as patients," he continued, "but as the… experiments."

Cloud's brow knitted. "Experiments?"

"That's right. I… don't really know the details." A blatant lie, because Hojo had _loved_ blabbing about what he was doing to them… but Cloud didn't need to know all of that, not yet. "But to make a very long story short, all of it had to do with Jenova – you know, the thing that had been inside the Nibelheim reactor. Hojo had it afterwards. Kept it in refrigerated storage while he harvested its cells and experimented off of it."

"Je...nova?" It took all of Cloud's self control to keep from flinching. He _knew_ that name, and the recognition went far deeper than just seeing the name in the Nibelheim reactor. It was as if the name was engrained beneath his skin, an inked tattoo he could never scrub away, and he clasped a hand over his bicep as a shudder coursed down his spine.

"Yeah. Jenova," Zack said again. His voice was flat, expressionless, as he continued, "Hojo called it _the calamity from the skies,_ though he never really explained what he meant by that. Though he was - _is_ \- a crazy psychopath, so who really knew what the hell he meant by anything. I don't."

"Why did… Hojo want to experiment on _us_?" Cloud dared to ask.

The corner of Zack's lips twitched in a dark, humorless smile. "For nothing good," he stated. "I guess Sephiroth was his creation, someway or another, and he wanted to see if he could create us to be even better. So he did... _things_ to us. To see if we were."

Cloud rubbed a hand against his arm, against the goosebumps suddenly blossoming there. "If we were better than... Sephiroth?"

"Apparently. Don't ask me why," Zack added. "I don't understand what the hell he was thinking, and at this point, I don't want to anymore. The less I understand of his mindset, the better. And that goes for you, too."

Cloud had nothing to say in response to that, so he didn't; he only hunched further on the bed, his hands cupping the bowl of cold, lumpy oatmeal.

"Anyway..." Zack cleared his throat. "That's what Hojo wanted us for. Injected us with stuff, to see what it did. Tested our fighting ability against whatever hybrid monsters he had created. Documented our progress. Time passed, he eventually put us in mako pods, and while I could handle it because of the whole SOLDIER thing, you had a... much harder time. Your consciousness started fading, and eventually faded entirely once the mako poisoning." Zack paused for a moment. "You were in really bad shape. Really... really bad."

"...Oh." Cloud slowly lifted a hand to his eyes, and he could faintly see their teal glow against his fingertips. _So not SOLDIER eyes,_ he thought, _but mako addict eyes._ He waited for the sting of disappointment, and yet it never came; if anything, very little about it all. It didn't feel real - nothing of Zack's story did - and he slowly lowered his hand.

"Sorry." Zack's voice had Cloud looking up, just in time to see Zack's lips twitch into an apologetic smile. "You didn't quite make it to SOLDIER."

Cloud blinked. _How did he know I was thinking about that?_ he wondered, even as he said, "It's fine."

"SOLDIER wasn't that great anyway," Zack added. "I'd say you lucked out with this one."

Cloud wasn't sure if he agreed, and only shrugged noncommittally. "It's fine," he repeated, like he didn't care at all. Because he didn't. He _didn't care._ "How did we get out of the lab?" he asked, changing subjects.

Zack sharply exhaled. "Luck, really. Somehow or another, I woke up in the mako pod and managed to break the glass. Then I grabbed you – you were pretty out of it by then, mako-poisoning and all – and then we got out of town and decided to go to Midgar. Well," he amended with a faint smile, _"I_ decided to head to Midgar. You were kinda along for the ride."

Cloud frowned at that.

"But anyway," Zack continued, "lots of shit happened on our little hike east, stuff we don't have to go into right now. Basically, Shinra was chasing us, the Turks were on our tail, and eventually we made it to Midgar. But then..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, we were ambushed."

"Ambushed?"

"Yeah, buddy. In the Midgar wastes. Bunch of Shinra infantrymen pinned us down against a cliff. I was able to handle it," Zack reassured, "but I took a few good hits."

Cloud's head jerked up at that. "You got hurt?"

"Just a little. But don't worry." Zack ruffled Cloud's hair, who didn't react in the slightest. "Cissnei, who's with the Turks by the way, found us just outside of Midgar. Picked us up and took us to their fancy Turk hospital. Guess the Turks and Shinra don't really get along," he added with a faint grin.

 _Which is why I was wearing hospital clothes,_ Cloud realized. _Not because I was in SOLDIER and went crazy, but because…_

"And you're okay now?" Cloud ventured.

"Yeah, I'm okay." Zack gave his hair one more good ruffle, which had Cloud scowling, before he dropped his hand. "Believe me, it'll take more than a few infantrymen with guns to take me out. But anyway, you were gone, and I started looking for you. Didn't expect to find you last night," he added with a low chuckle, "but either way, it worked out. Now we're at Elmyra and Aerith's house, just for a little while until you feel better, and then we'll work something else out.

"But anyway, that's the story," he suddenly continued, changing topics. "The past five years all wrapped up in a pretty bow. The end."

But Cloud had stopped paying attention halfway through.

_Hold up._

His mind tried, and failed, to understand what Zack had just said. Experiments he could handle. Freaky labs that he didn't remember at all were all well and good. But…

 _"Five years?"_ Cloud breathed. He looked up from his empty bowl, skin pallid and lips parted in horror. "It's been five years since Nibelheim? _" Which means…_ His eyes widened. "I'm _twenty one?_ "

Zack blinked at him before barking a laugh. " _That's_ what you decided to focus on?" he said, hiding his shaking hands by firmly clasping them on his knees. "After everything I said? But well, yeah, Spikey. Five years. I know, I was shocked too when I found out. But don't worry about it," he quickly added at Cloud's stunned expression. "When you think about it, it's not that much time. Five years isn't too bad. It could be worse."

"B – But..." Cloud was only somewhat aware that Zack had taken the bowl out of his hands, most likely so that he didn't accidentally shatter it in his tight grip. But that left Cloud's hands empty, and so he buried them in the covers instead, his fingers digging into the floral sheets. "I… I don't remember..."

 _I don't remember an entire quarter of my life._ And that explained so much, didn't it? Why he didn't recognize himself in the mirror. Why Tifa had looked older, and Zack too. It was because they _were._

He glanced at Zack, expression pale and eyes desperate. "Five years?"

"Yeah buddy. Sorry." Zack sat beside him on the bed. "But you gotta focus on the positives right now, okay? Like that we're free, we can do whatever we want, and that we can start _living_ again."

_Living?_

Cloud turned his gaze to the bedsheets, twisted and tangled beneath his hands.

Gods… he had been _experimented_ on. Like an _animal._ For _five years._

Sudden warmth pressed against his back – _a hand,_ he realized numbly – but he didn't acknowledge it. He simply stared straight ahead, sightless, as Zack murmured, "I'm sorry, buddy. You had taken the news of the lab so well… Maybe I should have waited before telling you the year. Though to be honest," he added with a faint smile, "I didn't think the _year_ would be the thing to upset you."

 _That_ snapped something within Cloud. "No, I – I _wanted_ to know," he said quickly, raising his head. "I mean, I would have found out eventually." _Probably._ "It's… It's just..." He shook his head, unsure what to say next. It would be so easy to slide into the growing panic, so effortless to just let go of what little self control he had, but…

 _… But none of this seems real,_ Cloud suddenly knew. And the more he thought about it, the less _real_ it all seemed. Experimented on, Zack dragging his useless ass around, all over the course if five years? He had no memory of it. It was as if it had happened to someone else, someone completely different, and it was suddenly very easy to completely separate himself from Zack's story. To pretend that it _hadn't_ him. That it had all happened to a nameless, faceless stranger.

And he was okay with that.

Deeply inhaling, Cloud finally turned back to Zack and managed a thin smile. His heart was still beating fast and hard in his chest – _five years –_ and anxiety still squirmed and twisted deep within him – _five years gone –_ but he chose to ignore it. And though he couldn't _really_ ignore it, not entirely, he tried anyway. Tried to bury the mounting panic so deep in his mind that it would never see the light of day, and he finally said, "Zack, I'm okay." He was proud that his voice didn't even sound strained, not even a little. "Really. I promise."

"Are you sure?" Zack was looking him over with a concerned gaze, searching for any hint of alarm or upset. "I… Was it too much? I didn't mean to overwhelm you, I just –"

" _Zack."_ Zack blinked at Cloud's tone, which was admittedly louder than normal. "I'm fine. Really. Was just… surprised for a second, but I'm okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"You _positive?_ I mean, you're… taking this remarkably well, Spikey. Give or take a little." Concern pitched Zack's tone. "Are you sure that I didn't overwhelm you, or anything? It wasn't too much?"

Cloud bit his lip. "No, I'm fine." Or at least, he was _pretty sure_ that he was fine. He felt a little dirty, maybe. A little oily, and he had the sudden urge to scrub his hands, but, overall, he wasn't feeling _too_ bad. "Maybe it just hasn't sunk in yet, or something."

"Maybe." Zack's lips pinched together. "Well… if it starts to sink in, or if you remember anything, let me know. Okay?"

"I will," Cloud promised. "But…" His gaze drifted back down to his hands. Guilt twisted in his gut. "Um, I have a story to tell you, too."

Zack arched an eyebrow. "A story?"

Cloud bit his lip and nodded. "Yeah. I, um… did something last night. Before you found me." At Zack's silence, he hesitantly continued, "I – I might have helped blow up a mako reactor."

He tensed, waiting for Zack's reaction.

But the reaction he had been expecting never came.

"Oh, that." Zack leaned back in the chair, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, I already knew about that."

 _What?_ Cloud jerked his head up, wide-eyed. _He did?_ And he didn't sound… upset?

"You're not… mad?" Cloud ventured, his tone almost timid.

"Oh, I might have been a _tiny_ bit mad about it yesterday," Zack assured, which had Cloud immediately deflating. "I mean, I found you last night delirious, hurt, holding a _sword_ of all things, and with guns pointed at you. So I wasn't exactly _happy_ about it. But..." He suddenly reached forward and ruffled Cloud's hair. "I appreciate that you told me just now."

Cloud's shoulder's slumped. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize, Spikey. Honestly," he added with a sudden chuckle, which had Cloud jerking his head up, "I almost wish that I had been there to help. I mean yeah, you're right, it _was_ stupid. _Crazy_ stupid. But damn, would it have felt good to just blow a piece of Shinra up sky-high." He grinned almost wistfully at the image before his expression sobered. "That said, you're gonna have to lay low from now on, okay? Shinra has cameras inside their reactors, and they may be looking for you, right now. And I can't – I _won't –_ see you going back to that lab. I won't."

"All right," Cloud quickly agreed. That was a fair price to pay, which led him to his next question: "Do we... need to leave Midgar?"

"Well…" Zack grimaced, dragging Cloud out of his thoughts. "That _would_ be the smart move, but..."

Sudden laughter echoed outside the window. Zack eyes were pulled in that direction, almost as if he were connected by a string, and there was no mistaking how his expression softened. How his shoulders relaxed, if only slightly.

"Who's that?" Cloud finally asked, breaking the quiet.

"Oh, that's Aerith," he said quickly, as if suddenly recalling Cloud was there. He tone was casual, but the way he spoke her name… it was as if he was saying a prayer. "She's the reason we traveled all the way out to Midgar in the first place. You two actually met yesterday," he added, his smile soft. "She's the one who found you before I did."

"Oh." Cloud, unsurprisingly, did not remember that. "So… we're staying, then?" He could stop his tone from lifting, growing a little more hopeful.

"We… gods, we have so many reasons to leave." Zack ran an impatient hand through his hair. "We should. But… I don't know, I don't know. First thing first though, we need to get you back up running."

"I can run," Cloud protested.

Zack only laughed. "Not exactly what I meant, buddy," he said, and Cloud flushed in response. "I meant that you should be back to a hundred percent before we make any drastic decisions."

"I'm fine."

" _Please_. I saw how your legs were shaking when you stood up a second ago." Zack grabbed the potion off of the nightstand before handing it to him, grinning all the while. "You finish the rest of this – we can get you something downstairs to help with the taste – and then we'll figure out the rest."

 _The rest? But…_ "Zack," he murmured, taking the potion, "I need to..."

"Need to see Tifa, I know," Zack finished for him. He didn't sound very happy about it either, which had Cloud looking up at him in confusion… but then Zack smiled, and all traces of his tension were immediately smoothed away. "Food first, and your girl second."

"Wha -" Cloud flushed. " _Zack!_ It's not… It's not like that," he insisted, even as his flush deepened. _His girl?_ Please. "It's _not._ "

Zack actually _laughed_ at him. "Yeah okay, Spikey. I'll just _pretend_ to forget all of the years you spent gushing about her."

Cloud's expression shifted into horror. "I did not."

Zack only laughed harder.

"I did not! You gushed about Aerith _all_ the time, though," Cloud protested, recalling his days in the infantry. "All the time!"

"Whatever you say," Zack laughed, which had Cloud scowling all over again. He didn't _gush,_ damnit. "Anyway, this fun conversation aside, wanna head downstairs? And then I can show you around – Aerith's house is _crazy_."

The waterfall outside flashed to the forefront of his mind, and he found himself nodding. "Okay," he said as he pushed himself upright, and was pleased when his legs felt far more solid beneath him. They took his weight, and he tried to ignore Zack hovering nearby, as if he was ready to jump forward and grab Cloud in case he fell.

Unable to stand his worried stare any longer, Cloud frowned at him. "I'm _fine,_ Zack."

"Uh – yeah, I know. Sorry," Zack said, huffing a brief laugh "It's just, it's been a long time since you've walked around. Kinda makes me nervous."

 _Nervous?_ "Why?"

"Because… well, never mind," Zack said, which had Cloud scowling all over again. "Let's just head downstairs, okay?"

"Fine."

Outside of the small bedroom, a narrow hallway led down to a spiraling stairwell, one that had been lined with paintings and pictures of landscapes and smiling people. Cloud's eyes drifted across the portraits as he slowly made his way down the steps, the wood cool against his bare feet. Everyone was smiling in the photographs; everyone looked happy, and for some strange reason, it twisted something inside of him and he had to tear his gaze away.

The stairs eventually landed in a living room. Conversation, the voices coming from the kitchen, fluttered through it. Cloud heard the dull thuds of a knife hitting a cutting board. The sound of something being peeled, the loud bubbling of water being boiled, and there was a spice in the air. He didn't recognize it, but his mouth immediately watered at the exotic scent.

The oatmeal had been good, but now he wanted whatever _that_ was.

"Zack!" A woman suddenly stepped out of the kitchen, her expression bright as she wiped her hands down on her dress. At the way Zack's face lit up, Cloud immediately guessed that _she_ was Aerith. "How is he – Oh!" Cloud flushed as her green eyes landed on him, and he quickly slipped the potion into the sweatpants pocket. "Cloud! You're awake! How are you feeling?"

"Um." It was unnerving, the familiar way she talked to him. Like she already knew him, even though he didn't recognize her at all. "Better, thanks."

"You gave us quite a scare last night," came a second voice, and another woman stepped out of the kitchen - Elmyra, Cloud guessed. She was wiping down a knife with a dishcloth, and the flat of the blade glinted against the morning sun as she continued, "Do the potion help?"

The potion's glass vial was cold in his hand as he replied, "It did, thank you."

Elmyra nodded, as if this was expected. "Good," she said, and suddenly stepped towards him, that sharpened knife still in her hand. Cloud had the sudden, wild urge to duck behind Zack, and he nearly jolted when she suddenly extended a hand out to him. "My name is Elmyra – I'm Aerith's mother." She flashed him a faint smile. "Don't worry; no one is going to hurt you here."

 _Do I really look that jumpy?_ Cloud, unhappy with the thought, schooled his expression into cool indifference as he took her hand. It was warm and rough; worker's hands, the same as his mother, and his unease immediately softened. "I'm Cloud."

"Cloud." Elmyra hummed as she took a step back. "That's a cute name."

Zack laughed at that, which only caused Cloud to flush. "'S not cute," he muttered.

"No, I didn't mean to offend you," Elmyra quickly said, and when Cloud looked up again, her expression had warmed somewhat. "I'm glad that you're awake, Cloud."

"Me, too," he said honestly. "And… I'm sorry if I… caused trouble last night."

But Elmyra quickly waved off his concern. "No trouble," she said as she walked back to the kitchen. "Mako poisoning is very serious, and you're lucky that my daughter and her… friend… found you last night."

Aerith loudly huffed. "Mom," she said as she followed Elmyra into the kitchen, "I told you yesterday, his name is _Zack._ "

Elmyra only hummed in response, and the loud staccato of the knife hitting the cutting board resumed.

"Yeah..." Zack's voice was low, far too low for anyone without enhanced hearing to hear. "In case you didn't notice, Elmyra doesn't like me very much."

Cloud shot Zack a surprised look. "Why?"

"Doesn't like SOLDIERs," was his simple reply, and then he was looking up again, smiling as Aerith stepped out of the kitchen.

"Lunch will be ready soon," she declared, pulling off a brown apron. She threw it over a chair as she continued, "Which means we have some free time. Cloud, have you seen the outside yet?"

He shook his head _no._ "Just from the window."

"Hmm." She glanced at him, her lips curved in a bright smile. "Want to see it up close?"

His expression must have said it all, because then she was laughing. "Then let's go! C'mon, Cloud; Zack." She grabbed a wicker basket, which had been stacked beside the door, before heading out.

"We don't have to help make lunch?" Cloud asked.

Aerith shook her head. "Nope! Mom offered to take care of it. Besides, I have to pick flowers pick some flowers for the orphanage. They wanted to decorate it a little bit - add some color, you know?""

"I can help," Zack offered, grinning. Cloud didn't miss the way he hovered around her, never more than a few feet away, even as he made sure to keep Cloud in his peripherals, too. "In case you didn't know, I'm an expert flower picker."

Aerith only laughed in response. " _Really,_ " she said, in a tone that made it seem like she didn't believe him at all.

"That's right," Zack said before turning to Cloud. " _You_ tell her."

Cloud only blinked. "Uhh..."

"See!" Aerith pushed her long, brown braid over her shoulder. "Cloud agrees with me."

"He does not!"

They continued to bicker, but it was lighthearted, full of smiles and laughter, and Cloud found himself faintly smiling along even as his footsteps slowed. For some reason, watching them reminded him of Tifa. Which reminded him:

_I need to go see her._

An arm was suddenly slung over his shoulders, and he nearly stumbled beneath the unexpected weight. "You doing good back here?" Zack asked.

Cloud didn't meet his gaze. "Um..." he began, and Zack immediately tensed. "Actually, I was wondering… When can we see Tifa?"

"Tifa?" Aerith was suddenly walking beside him, her green eyes bright beneath the midday sun. "Who's that? A girlfriend?"

Cloud's cheeks heated. "No! No, she's, um, a friend." And when Aerith kept looking at him like she didn't believe him - and Zack too, which had Cloud's blush deepening - he continued, "I never came back last night, so she's probably worried."

"Maybe we can head over later today," Zack offered, shooting Aerith an unreadable glance.

Aerith nodded at him before turning back to Cloud. "How about after lunch?" she offered. "My mom's making roasted pumpkin, plus some other stuff from the garden."

" _More_ pumpkin?" Zack laughed. "How much pumpkin do you guys have?"

"We had a good harvest," Aerith told him, her tone stern, before she turned back to Cloud. "Anyway, what do you say? How about you stay for lunch, and then maybe we can pack something up for your friend?"

Cloud nodded, trying – and failing – to hide his creeping blush. "Okay.:

"Good." Aerith placed a hand on his arm, smiling warmly. "I think that would make my mom happy, too. She was really worried about you yesterday."

 _She was?_ "Why?"

"Oh, you know. Worrying is just what Mom's do," she said, shooting a warm gaze at Zack, before letting her hand drop. "Anyway, want to check out the waterfall first?"

"That sounds good," he said. Aerith hummed in response before continuing to lead them down the road, occasionally pointing out different flowers or plants that grew there, and Zack - as always - stayed near her side.

Cloud was content to trail behind, simply happy to be somewhere so green, before he tilted his head towards the sky. The plate had cracked here, giving him a good view of the lazy clouds swept across its expanse. The sunlight warmed his cheeks, and he closed his eyes against it.

 _Don't worry, Tifa,_ he quietly thought. _I'll be on my way soon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long, emotional dialogue is my one true weakness, so I hope that wasn't too boring for anyone?? At least now Cloud is up to speed on everything (well, sort of... Zack left a few things out, didn't he?) and Tifa has a new mission to go on, right? 
> 
> Also, I'm going to try something I've never done before, but may be fun! If you have preference at all for what you dress you think Tifa should wear next chapter (and I know that a lot of you do lol), then feel free to drop what dress you'd prefer in the comments. The dress with the most votes will be the winner. !! THAT SAID !! - if you vote for a dress but you're a dick about it, then I'm throwing out your vote. So please be nice.
> 
> Good luck! 😊
> 
> \--
> 
> Next chapter will be published on Friday, August 21st (follow Rand0mSmil3z on Twitter if you'd like to see previews). Until then, stay well, stay safe, and I wish you all the best 💖


	19. Marigolds and Mascara

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT 1: Typos. 😭 I swear they multiply the moment I press "Post"
> 
> \--
> 
> Happy Friday! I hope that everyone has had a great week 😊
> 
> First of all, huge thank you to everyone who voted on Tifa's dress! 💖 I'm amazed at how successful the voting was (really, thank you all so much!!!), so we'll definitely be doing another one for the **other** dress scene that will be coming up 😉 Stay tuned!
> 
> And as always: Enjoy the chapter 😊

It was a rare day when there was movement within the Turk meeting room. Rarer still when the lights were actually on, the scent of coffee and tea lingered in the air, and all of the chairs – well, _most_ of the chairs, anyway _–_ were occupied. But today was a rare sort of day. Tseng had called an all-team meeting after all, and the tension in the air was palpable. Rude was brooding, Elena had her hands balled on her lap and expression pinched in a scowl, and Tseng – cool, unmovable, always-calm Tseng – was impatiently tapping his finger against the table as they waited for their final member.

Yet despite the tension, Cissnei sat comfortably in her chair. Her legs were delicately crossed and her expression was schooled into utter indifference, as she had been trained to do. Inwardly, however, she was spiraling. Tseng hadn't announced _why_ he had called an all-team meeting; he had just made a vague statement regarding promptness and the meeting's location. It had unnerved her, and she was _rarely_ unnerved.

She did have a few suspicions as to the meetings purpose however, and her copper eyes flicked to Tseng as she thought, _I wonder if it has to do with Zack and Cloud._ Tseng continued to tap his finger against the table, not noticing – or perhaps indifferent – to her quick glance. _Tseng_ _ **has**_ _been acting strangely ever since we picked them up…_

Without warning, the door was suddenly flung open. All heads turned just in time to see Reno stumble into the room, his hair uncombed and shirt rumpled, as if he had just pulled it off the floor. "Sorry, sorry!" he stammered as he frantically buttoned his shirt. "I, ah, overslept."

And just like that, the room's tension burst.

Rude, seated to Elena's left, pinched the bridge of his nose with a harsh sigh. "Reno..."

"Listen, I was on the upper plate trying to find Fair last night, yeah?" Reno pushed himself into an open chair, still fighting with the last button. "But of course, there were these infantrymen stumbling around without orders, and since I outranked them and all of that, they wanted _me_ to order them around. And like, I _tried_ to explain that I was sorta busy at the moment, but you know how they are!" Having fixed his shirt, he immediately began trying to tie his scarlet hair into a thin ponytail, scowling all the while. "I _swear,_ they all share the same brain cell, and not a very bright one at that."

"Reno..." Tseng, seated at the head of the table, looked immeasurably disappointed. " _I_ was on the upper plate last night. But I did not see _you._ "

Reno blinked, uncomprehending, before he blanched.

"And if you're going to be late to a meeting," Tseng smoothly continued, "please do think of a more creative excuse."

"Oh yeah, well..." Reno had the decency to at look _look_ embarrassed, if the faint blush staining his cheekbones was any indication. "I..."

" _Reno,"_ Elena hissed. She was a new hire on the team, and looked as professional as ever; blond hair neatly straightened, blouse impossibly smooth, her pencil skirt a perfect fit. "You were at Wall Market, weren't you?"

Even Cissnei, with all of her Turk training, found it difficult to control her expression at the accusation.

Reno's lip twitched in a smirk. "Wouldn't _you_ like to know?"

Elena's jaw dropped as she tried, and failed, to come up with a clever answer. "Y – Y – You know what _,_ I _don't_ want to know." Her cheeks flushed with color, a striking contrast to her naturally pale complexion. "In fact, I don't care _where_ you go in your free time."

"I'm sure you don't, sweetheart," Reno purred.

Elena's blush deepened into a more brilliant shade of red as she shot upright, chair rattling behind her, her perfectly ironed pencil skirt creasing at the seams. "Don't you _dare_ call me -"

"Reno," Tseng interrupted. His cool voice drifted over the meeting room, and Elena stilled immediately. "I would appreciate it if you would not tease my new hire. You are her senior, and I expect you to act as such."

Reno folded his hands behind his head, which earned him an exasperated look from Rude. "Yeah, yeah, yeah..."

"And with that matter firmly behind us," Tseng continued, shooting Elena a stern look before she meekly sat back down, "let us move on to the task at hand."

 _Ah, here it is._ Cissnei unconsciously sat a little straighter in her chair, the question nearly bursting out of her. "Does it have anything to do with Zack and Cloud, sir?"

Tseng's dark gaze met her on, and then he faintly nodded; nodded causally, almost elegantly, as if his words weren't a knife straight into her heart. "It does," he affirmed, and then reached down to pull his briefcase onto the table. The briefcase was leather, simple and yet very well made, and within it were two blown-up images. Tseng pushed them both to the center of the table, continuing, "Fair and Strife were not on the upper plates last night – a fact I confirmed in the early hours this morning – and must therefore be on the lower sectors."

"You believe Fair and Strife reunited?" Rude asked, frowning at one of the images.

"That is our assumption."

Reno squinted over Rude's shoulder to see the picture. "Think they left Midgar?" he asked. "I mean, Fair only showed up to get Strifey-boy some medical attention, right? Kid needed it," he added he passed the screenshot to Elena, who immediately began scan the image with surgical scrutiny. "Strife was messed up in more ways than one."

"Fair and Strife are still in Midgar," Tseng replied with absolute certainty. "They traveled ten months across two continents to reach Midgar, and we can safely assumed that they would not leave it so quickly. Not until they got what they came here for."

 _Which is Aerith,_ Cissnei's mind instantly supplied. Zack's relationship with Aerith was a very well-kept secret amongst Shinra, and due to the events during and following the Nibelheim incident, now only she and Tseng were aware of it. However, Tseng preferred to turn a blind eye to their... unconventional affair. He liked to think that it didn't exist.

But Cissnei did not have that luxury - _no_ , it went far deeper than that. She _did not want_ the luxury. She'd rather see things how they were, no matter how painful, and had accepted Zack and Aerith's relationship a long time ago. In fact, she had accepted it the moment Zack had _begged_ her not to take him and Cloud back to Shinra all of those months ago. His frantic request had struck something so deep within her, a softness that her Turk training had somehow overlooked, because his tiny hope had been so _humble_. Zack hadn't asked her for help. Hadn't asked for any supplies, or intelligence, or even medicine for Cloud. All he had wanted was for her to look the other way. Just for the night, just to let him and Cloud rest for a little while so that they could continue their journey at dawn. All because at the end of their long road was Aerith.

And he had asked it from _her._

How could she have said no?

Cissnei cleared her throat, suddenly alarmed at how tight it felt – like she had swallowed barbed wire, a hard stone, a glass of water filled with ice. "So, to summarize," she managed to say, "we have determined that Fair and Strife are still in Midgar." To her credit, her voice sounded the same; soft, even, and unassuming. "But I don't understand. Why we're still pursuing them? Our mission was to find Zack and Cloud in the Midgar wastes before Shinra ambushed them, and failing that, we brought them both to our hospital and treated them both for injuries. But now that's over." Over, because Cloud had forcibly left and Zack had recovered stunningly quickly, even for a SOLDIER. "So why not just let them go?" she asked. "What is the purpose of keeping them?"

Tseng's lips curved into a smile – she must have asked a good question, then – and said, "Elena." He leaned forward, folded his hands beneath his chin. "Please pass both pictures to Cissnei."

Elena had snapped her head up at being address before dutifully handing the screenshots over, though she seemed rather unhappy about it. Cissnei paid her quiet sulking no mind as she flipped through both pictures, a frown decorating her lips.

The first picture was little more than a dark blur with two bright, sea-glass green orbs hovering in the center. The second had clearly been lifted out of a mako reactor security camera – _Mako Reactor One,_ she guessed – and it depicted two people within it. One had a prosthetic gun-arm, the other was holding a rather large gunblade. Both were fighting a Scorpion Sentinel, and to their credit, appeared to be winning.

"So Avalanche is responsible for the reactor bombing," Cissnei surmised _._ No surprise there, and Tseng nodded his agreement. But even so… it didn't make any sense. Why would he hand these to her? She was on the _Wutai_ mission, not the Avalanche one, and Avalanche certainly wasn't anything worth calling a team meeting about.

But then she looked at the pictures a little closer, starting with the darker, blurrier photo. Her eyes familiarized itself with the foggy edges, the glowing sea-glass orbs hovering in its center – _eyes,_ she suddenly realized – and the ragged blur of a silhouette, before it occurred to her with with crystalline clarity:

_That's Zack._

She quickly turned to the blond figure in the other photo, her heart leaping to her throat. _Which most likely means…This is Cloud?_ Her eyes widened a fraction, the only indication of her mounting surprise. _But he's…_ He was holding a gunsword, his body arched in a desperate dodge, his teeth bared in a grimace. _He looks awake,_ she realized. _Fully awake._ She slid the images back to Tseng, forcing her expression to return to neutral. _Thank the gods._

Tseng placed the photos back into his briefcase. "It has been confirmed," he said, his voice crisp and tone smooth, "that Strife has joined Avalanche. And as I have informed Reno and Rude, and will now inform the rest of you, that places us in… let us say, a difficult situation."

Cissnei prided herself in being able to control the outward expression of her emotions, but even she couldn't stop her eyes from widening at Tseng's words. For him to call something _difficult..._

"And you know this for certain?" she asked, rewinding the conversation. "Cloud is clearly within Mako Reactor One, but that doesn't necessarily mean that he has joined the eco-terrorist group." She didn't add that she didn't believe that he had the mental capacity to join, fully awake or not. Not after what he had gone through.

"I understand, but it has been confirmed," Tseng stated. "That matter has long since past."

"And even if it hadn't been confirmed," Reno muttered, looking over the photograph again, "the footage is pretty damning."

"I'd say so," Elena added under her breath. "Why would anyone do anything so _stupid_?"

Cissnei shot Elena a long, disapproving look.

"But moving on," Tseng said, drawing the group's attention. His gaze rested on the photograph Reno was holding, his expression unreadable as he continued, "Upper management in Shinra has gotten a hold of the photographs, including Hojo. Apparently, he ordered several infantrymen to pull files out of his Nibelheim lab."

"Where Cloud and Zack were being held," Cissnei breathed. _But why? Why would he want those files?_ _Unless…_ Her heart stuttered in her chest. _Unless he wants to continue his research?_

Tseng met her gaze, saw the horror hidden behind her copper eyes, and curtly nodded. "That is correct," he said simply, "but he also went one step further. In addition to the files, he - with the board's approval - placed a three hundred thousand gil bounty on Strife's head, as well as the man with the prosthetic gun. Bounty hunters are on the move," Tseng continued, his gaze flicking across the room, "and the chances that Strife and the gun-armed man will be apprehended within the day is seventy percent. Within the week, that number jumps to ninety-five percent."

"Ifrit," Reno cursed.

Rude's gaze hardened behind his dark sunglasses. "Sir, are you certain that we do nothing about Strife?"

Cissnei immediately went cold. _What?_ Her gaze jumped to Tseng, a question burning within them. _Had he really ordered Rude to do nothing about Cloud's situation?_

"With all due respect," Cissnei interrupted, "we have to help Cloud. He can't -"

"Cissnei." Tseng's voice cut through her like a knife. "You would be wise to not address the subject so casually. Also keep in mind," he added, "that we are the Turks, and we follow the orders we are given – regardless of any sort of emotional attachment."

It was clearly an admonishment; a gentle one, but no less effective. Cissnei balled her hands up on her lap, her expression lapsing back into neutrality. "Yes, sir," she said simply. "My apologies."

Elena looked immensely pleased by this.

"Apology accepted." Tseng turned back to Rude and answered, "And yes, Rude. I expect _all of us_ -" the emphasis was not lost on Cissnei, "- to do nothing regarding Strife. On the contrary, Strife is to be a distraction."

Elena wrinkled her nose. "A _distraction_?"

"Yes, a distraction." Tseng tapped a finger against the desk. "Strife's survival _cannot_ be connected to Fair in any way. This is because Hojo wants Strife back for further analysis -"

 _Analysis,_ Cissnei silently echoed, her horror twisting within her. What a dainty, sterile word.

"- and Heidegger is also interested in Strife's return," Tseng bluntly continued, "as well as the rest of Avalanche. Because the reactor bombing falls on his shoulders, having Avalanche neutralized will place him in a better position and in better favor with the President."

"He has been gunning for a promotion," Reno muttered under his breath. "Annoying boot-licker."

"And while Hojo and Heidegger's focus is on Strife," Tseng said, completely ignoring Reno, "we will find and protect Fair."

Elena scowled at that. "But why? Why do _we_ need Sample Z?"

Cissnei felt the blood rush to her head. "We don't call him that here," she bit out before she could stop herself. Then, since she already verbally expressed her emotions and it was too late to take it back, decided to sharply continue, "He's not a _sample_ any longer."

Elena shot her an icy look. "Is that so?"

Tseng lifted a hand, effectively pausing Cissnei and Elena's conversation. "It's a fair question," he said. "We will be sheltering Fair because we need him for another mission."

"Another mission?" Rude arched an eyebrow, the only outwardly expression of his surprise. "Besides having him sweep security cameras for Avalanche members?"

"Yeah well, he did a pretty shitty job of it," Reno muttered under his breath. "Quit early, too."

No one denied it. Even Tseng cracked a rare grin, only to immediately grow somber. "No, Za – Fair," he quickly amended, which earned a quick glance from Cissnei, "will be moved to a different mission. One that only a contractor, someone unaffiliated with the Turks and yet possesses high combat prowess, would be able to accomplish."

The room seemed to chill ten degrees. "And that is?" Cissnei dared to ask, when it became clear that no one else would.

Tseng met her gaze across the table, and his dark gaze was ice. "While Strife pulls the attention of Shinra's elite," he said slowly, "we will use Fair to assassinate the President."

For a long while after that, no one spoke.

"Is that why you asked Reno, Rude, and I to find Zack and Cloud before the infantry did?" Cissnei breathed, her small voice cutting through the quiet. Tseng's eyes narrowed at her informality, but she didn't care – not right now, not anymore. It was as close to rebellion as she had ever come. "You wanted to use them as _puppets_?"

Tseng watched her for a moment. " _Puppets_ is a strong word," he said gingerly, "but, yes. That is correct."

For a moment, Cissnei couldn't breathe. Could hardly even think. Then:

 _By saving them in the wastes,_ she slowly realized, _I damned them._

_I damned them both._

"Cissnei." Tseng's voice was a contradiction; it was made of molten metal, and yet icy cold. Cold enough to further chill the room. "Can I count on you?"

It took a moment for his words to pierce her numb shock, but when they did…

"I'm a Turk." She kept her tone was bland, her expression utterly indifferent despite the anxiety pooled deep within her. There was only one answer to Tseng's question. "Of course you can."

It was the first time she had ever lied to Tseng.

And it wouldn't be the last.

* * *

When Cloud, Aerith, and Zack had returned from flower picking and looking at the waterfall, Elmyra had handed Cloud some new clothes – a simply gray hoodie and faded jeans – with the declaration that the old SOLDIER uniform he had been wearing the night before had been beyond saving. She didn't look upset at all by this; in fact, she looked rather pleased when she had thrown the uniform away.

Zack had as well, for that matter.

 _"It was an old model, Spikey, not to mention super gross,"_ he had told Cloud when Cloud had called him out on it. _"How about we find you something better? I'll even help you."_

Inwardly, Cloud had the suspicion that Zack _didn't_ want to help him buy new armor. That Zack would prefer it if Cloud never wore armor or even held another weapon again, because Zack _still_ wouldn't tell him where his gunsword was. He had only said that he was still cleaning it and that he'd be cleaning it for a few days. But Cloud kept his suspicions firmly to himself, and a curt, _"Fine,"_ had been his only response.

Lunch had been, as promised, roasted pumpkin with an assortment of other vegetables from the garden; grilled leeks, steamed carrots, spiced beets with some sort of cheese crumbled on top. Zack had reminded Cloud to take the remainder of the potion, which had Cloud grimacing before and after he had forced the bitter liquid down, and afterwards Cloud had helped Elmyra clean up the dishes while Zack and Aerith had tidied the dining room.

"So," Elmyra asked, handing Cloud a plate to dry. "How are you feeling? Potion working okay?"

"Um… Yes." Cloud ran a soft towel along the plate. He _had_ been feeling a little fuzzy earlier, but now the potion's warmth was spreading through his limbs, dissipating the fog he hadn't even realized had been building up. In fact, he felt almost... normal. _Almost_. "Thank you."

"Of course," Elmyra said. "I'm glad that you're feeling better." She had a no-nonsense way of speaking, and cleaned the plates with practiced efficiency. "Where are you from, Cloud?"

He thickly swallowed, setting the plate aside to take another. He didn't really want to talk about it, but she _had_ been so nice to him, and had even given him her last potion… "Nibelheim," he replied after a lengthy pause. "It's -"

"Oh, I've heard of it." Elmyra handed him another plate, and water dripped off of its white ceramic and into the sink. "Small mountain town, correct?"

"Y – Yeah, actually." _Small mountain town –_ how neatly she summarized the first fourteen years of his life. Rubbing a towel over the damp dish, he added, "It is..." _It was,_ he almost said, but stopped himself at the last moment, "a nice place."

"I can imagine," Elmyra said simply. "Miss it?"

He shrugged at the soapy dish he was holding. "Not really."

It wasn't a lie. Not entirely, because he didn't miss Nibelheim the place. He missed the _people…_ and with a start, he suddenly realized that he missed one in particular. Missed her until it was a physical ache within him, a grief so raw and untouched that with his next breath, he was swallowing back glass shards, choking the jagged fragments down, each so fragile and brittle and yet _so gentle_ that, without his knowing, they had settled deep within him, layer on layer, a quiet rain _,_ a -

 _…_ and suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder, grounding him, jolting him out of whatever foggy terrain he had wandered down. Zack offered Cloud a small smile, who was busy trying to control his breathing again, before he turned to Elmyra and asked, "And where are you from, Elmyra?"

"Kalm."

"Oh, I know Kalm!" Zack's hand squeezed on Cloud's shoulder as he spoke, and the gentle touch helped pull his shattering pieces together. "There's a bar there called The Tipsy Miner, right?"

Elmyra's expression went stoney. "Yes." A pause, then: "Did you go there often?"

" _Mom!_ " Aerith's indignant shout echoed from the living room.

"Just once actually, right after I was first accepted into SOLDIER," Zack explained before turning his grin to Cloud. "Don't ask me what happened afterwards, though."

"Why?" Cloud ran a towel along the cup he held. He was pleased when his voice didn't waver, because really, he was totally, perfectly fine _._ "Don't remember?"

"Not even a little bit," Zack laughed, which dragged a small smile out of Cloud. Elmyra harshly sighed beside him, as if that was _exactly_ the answer she had been expecting, but her obvious disapproval went ignored as Zack added, "But that's okay, because even though I didn't remember what happened that, I made a lot of good memories afterwards and everything worked out in the end." He turned his attention to Cloud, and there was something meaningful in his expression. Something that ran deeper than just his cocky, carefree, devil-may-care grin. "Things always work out in the end," he told Cloud. "And usually for the better."

And all of a sudden, Cloud got the distinct sense that Zack wasn't talking about his night out anymore; that he was talking about _him,_ and he tore his gaze away and busied himself with the drying off of the dishes, feeling strangely heavier than before.

 _Everything works out,_ his mind echoed. _Usually for the better._

How tightly he clung to those words.

"Also, Spikey," Zack added, "I think that plate's dry now."

Cloud jolted. "Oh, um. Yeah." He set the dish aside, kicking himself over getting so distracted. He needed to focus. Zack had said so earlier – that there was _nothing_ wrong with him. That missing five years of his life wasn't that bad because things could have been worse, so he just needed to… get over it, or something. "Sorry."

"Cloud." Zack was frowning at him again, the same worried frown from the morning. "Why are you apo-"

"There's no reason to apologize," Elmyra said suddenly. She wiped her hands with a towel and was now scooping the leftovers into small glass containers. "In fact," she added with a smile, "thank you for the help."

Cloud only nodded, unable to meet Zack's suddenly concerned gaze.

"Anyway, Mom." Aerith suddenly stepped into the kitchen, wiping her hands on her dress. "Do you need any other help? Because Cloud and I were planning on going to Sector Seven really fast. He has a _friend_ over there that he wants to see," she added, winking at the very flushed Cloud, "so I'm not sure how long we'll take..."

"That's fine, but be back before sunset." Elmyra placed her hands on her hips, looking every bit like the stern mother she was. "You know I don't like you walking around after dark."

"Aw Mom, but I'll have a bodyguard with me!"

" _Sunset_ , Aerith."

"But what if -"

Whatever else Aerith was saying was lost to Cloud, because he had moved closer to Zack's side and murmured, "Um, Zack… Can I ask you something?"

Zack, who had been grinning at Aerith and Elmyra's bickering, suddenly went very still at Cloud's question. "Of course," he said, a little too quickly. "Living room? Or bedroom?"

"Living room is fine."

Cloud noticed how Zack minutely relaxed at that, but not completely. His body was still taunt as he leaned against the living room's bland wall, right beside the stairwell, and asked, far too casually, "So, Cloud. What did you want to ask me?"

"Um..." Suddenly Cloud felt a little silly, and shifted his weight to his other foot, his fingers fidgeting with the long sleeves of his hoodie. "About what Aerith said earlier… it sounded like you aren't coming with us. To Sector Seven."

" _Oh!_ " Zack suddenly barked a short laugh. "Oh! That's… That's what you were wondering." He ran a hand through his hair, grinning to himself. "Gods Spikey, you had me nervous there for a second."

Cloud blinked at Zack's admission. "Why?"

"Just… Well, never mind." Cloud's lips pitched into a scowl at the dismissal, but then Zack continued, "I won't come with you guys – I actually have to take care of something really fast first – but I'll meet you there."

Cloud wasn't entirely sure why, but the thought of being away from Zack was… startling. _Jarring_ , even, and the anxiety bubbling within him heated until it was a low simmer, a constant bubbling that had his fingers digging into his hoodie's soft sleeves. "I'll come with you," he quickly offered. "Maybe I can help."

Zack's smile softened. "Spikey, I appreciate it. I really do, but it's on the upper plate and you… probably should be anywhere near the upper plate right now."

 _Because of what I did last night,_ Cloud thought glumly. He hid his hands in the sleeves, and the inner fabric's was soft and gently against his fingertips. "How long will you be gone?"

"Not long," Zack promised. "Maybe an hour or two at the most."

"Why?"

"I need pick up a few things I forgot at the Turk lodging they put me in." Zack's smile grew wistful, and his gaze slid to the hardwood floor without really seeing it. "I need to pick up Aerith's letters, and Angeal's sword. They mean a lot to me, and I… If I'm going to be with you and Aerith from here on out..." He lifted his gaze, a faint, sad smile curving his lips, and continued, "then I'd like to have them with me, you know? I can't just leave them there."

 _Oh._ Cloud once again pulled at his sleeves, mindlessly. The way Zack had said _you and Aerith..._ it made him feel like he belonged, just a little bit. "Yeah," he finally murmured. "That makes sense."

Zack's smile warmed. "Thanks, buddy."

"So... only an hour or two?"

"That's right."

"And then you'll meet us there?"

"Definitely." Zack suddenly laughed and leaned forward to ruffle Cloud's hair, who just let it happen. "Don't worry. I know a lot has happened, but you'll be with Aerith, who knows these streets better than anyone, and you'll see _Tifa_! Your _girl_!"

"Not my girl," Cloud mumbled.

"Deny it all you want, she's your girl," Zack grinned. And he grinned so effortlessly, so _easily,_ that Cloud felt smaller beneath it. "And now you're going to see her soon! So, do me a solid and smile, Spikester. Things are looking up."

Cloud's brow pinched. " _Spikester?"_

"Well, yeah." Zack's lips pulled into a wild grin. "When you're acting grumpy, I'll call you _Spikester._ "

"Ugh Zack, _no_."

"Zack _yes._ " Zack laughed and moved forward to ruffle Cloud's hair again. "Spikester, Spikester, Spikester -"

"Would you quit that!" Cloud protested, swiping at Zack's outstretched hand. "Stop touching me!"

"Yeah, Zack," came Aerith's sudden, loud shout from the kitchen. "Stop touching Cloud!"

" _Ifrit,_ Aerith," Zack loudly said in response, which was only emphasized by Elmyra's harsh groan. "Could you have worded that _any_ worse?"

Aerith poked her head out of the kitchen, wickedly grinning at the challenge. "Want me to try?"

" _No,"_ the boys said simultaneously, which had Aerith _cackling_ as she made her way to the front door.

"You two make this so _easy!"_ she laughed at them as she slipped on a red leather jacket. "Just so _easy!"_

Zack scowled as he moved to her side. "You've gotten evil while I've been gone," he pointedly told her. "Did you know that?"

Aerith grinned at him, her green eyes dancing in the light peeking through the front door. "I don't know, Zack," she drawled. "I _distinctly_ recall someone asking if they were in heaven when they woke up next to me."

"Again, _wording,_ " Zack huffed before turning to Cloud, who had gone red in the face again. "I crashed through her church's roof and landed on her flowers _years_ ago," he quickly explained, shooting Aerith a look. "When I came too, she was _kneeling_ next to me. Asking if I was _okay_. And it was perfectly, completely _innocent._ "

"You don't need to convince me," Cloud told him, as he subtly tilted his chin towards the kitchen. "Convince _her._ "

Elmyra looked on from the kitchen, her expression absolutely _frigid._

Zack - the same Zack who was a first class SOLDIER, who could easily dispatch armies, who crossed two continents taking care of another, went pale. "I swear!" He raised his hands in surrender as Aerith giggled beside him. "I _swear_ that I'm not doing anything... anything nefarious to your daughter!"

" _Nefarious,_ " Aerith told him in a stage whisper. "Big word."

Zack ran an impatient hand through his hair. "Can we go?" He then turned to Cloud, who had shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets and was looking distinctly uncomfortable. "Can we go now?"

"Please," Cloud muttered, moving to follow the two of them out the door.

They had only made it a few steps down the stone path when footsteps echoed behind them. "And remember, Aerith," Elmyra called to their departing backs. "Sunset!"

"I'll remember," Aerith promised as she waved goodbye.

Their first stop was the Sector Five station, to drop off Zack. Cloud and Aerith dropped Zack off at the Sector Five train station. They had arrived _just_ as the train had rolled in, and Zack had hurried on board with his Turk contractor ID in his hand – but not before suddenly, sharply exhaling, turning to Aerith, and saying, _"You drive me crazy,"_ and then pulling her in tight and kissing her.

And Aerith, after a brief, wide-eyed pause, had kissed him back – but it was a clumsy kiss, more like their lips bumping together because she was smiling too much and couldn't seem to stop long enough to kiss him properly. _"Good,"_ she had told him, then ordered, _"Hurry back."_ Zack had promised he would, and then had told Cloud to watch after Aerith – much to Aerith's chagrin – and Cloud, who had been busy looking anywhere else, had nodded his agreement. Zack had grinned briefly in response, but then the train had whistled its departure and he had dashed onto the train just before the doors had closed.

Cloud and Aerith then continued to Sector Seven. They walked along a dusty road, one that was wide, well-traveled, and was far busier than what Cloud had been expecting. He pulled the hood low over his head as someone walked a little too close for comfort, suddenly paranoid. What if one of them worked for Shinra? What if they recognized him? Zack _had_ mentioned that Shinra could be after him _right now,_ and he was walking around in the open like an _idiot._ And if…

_And if someone recognizes me, I'm…!_

A sudden hand suddenly looped around his arm.

"Don't worry, Cloud." Aerith's voice was even and calm, so calm that Cloud felt himself relaxing – if only slightly. "We're almost there."

Cloud slowly exhaled, though he didn't remove his hood. "Okay."

"Oh! And I almost forgot." Aerith suddenly reached into one of the deep pockets of her dress, she continued, "I brought you something. It's right… here." She pulled a yellow flower out of her pocket and gave it to him, grinning all the while. The flower was a delicate thing; a long, thin stem and a full bloom, the petals soft and silky and the same color as the summer sun. Miraculously, it had survived its journey in her pocket. Not one petal had been creased, not one leaf had been crushed. "It's for your _friend,"_ Aerith grinned.

"Oh, um..." Cloud's cheeks heated as he took the flower. A part of him wanted to protest, but another part argued that Tifa would like it. That she deserved pretty things. He could word it as a thank you gift; for finding him, for letting him stay, and for everything in between. "Thank you," he said honestly. "I think she'd like it."

"She _definitely_ would," Aerith agreed. "The flower is called a yellow lily. Pretty, huh?" She grinned at him. "Bet you can't guess it's meaning!"

Cloud frowned, confused. "It's meaning?" _Did_ flowers have individual meanings? Like, he understood that roses meant romance, or whatever, but he sure didn't know about the rest of them. They didn't exactly teach those things in the Shinra infantry. "Do all flowers have some one?"

"Of course, silly. Like…" She pressed a finger against her cheek, humming as she thought. "Well, have you even seen an apache plumes? It's like a shrub-like flower and used to grow around Midgar… never mind," she said, laughing at his expression. "Anyway, they symbolize attraction, while marigolds – another flower that used to grow around here – represent cruelty, grief, and jealousy."

That was kind of interesting, actually. "One flower can mean all of that?"

"That's right!"

Cloud hummed in response, and his gaze dropped down the yellow flower, his fingers gently pinching its delicate stem. The artificial sunlight caught its translucent petals until they were just shards of stained glass. "So what does this one mean?" he asked.

Aerith followed his gaze. "The yellow lily means _reunion_."

Cloud's eyes narrowed.

_Reunion…?_

Without warning, pain slit through his temple; it was a sudden throb that had him stumbling, spots dancing in his vision, a hammering ache that left him both gasping and breathless. For a moment, he forgot where he was. _Who_ he was. All that existed was the pain, a hurt slamming against the walls of his skull, and the sound of the wind – a sound that was so distant, and so lonely, that it hurt far more than anything he felt physically.

"Cloud!" A hand around his arm tightened, the fingers digging through the sleeve and into his skin, keeping him balanced. " _Cloud!_ What's wrong?"

 _Cloud._ That's right. That… That was his _name_.

Cloud blinked open his eyes, not entirely sure when he had closed them. "S – Sorry," he managed, stumbling more upright - he didn't know when he had doubled over - as Aerith continued to hold his arm, her eyes bright and worried. "I'm... I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Aerith's brow was furrowed with concern. "You sounded like you were in a lot of pain."

"Just... Just a headache." One that was already fading into a small ache. One that he could easily ignore, and he offered her a wane smile. He had meant for it to be comforting, but she only looked more worried, so he let it slip. Turning away, he added, "I'm probably just… tired, or something."

"Or something," Aerith agreed. "You _did_ have a busy day yesterday…"

"I'm fine, really."

"Well, I'm sure you are, but we shouldn't over do it." She chewed her inner cheek, uncertain. "Do you want to rest for a little bit?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm... I'm fine. But I, um..." His gaze dropped to his hand, to the flower he was holding. "I might have crushed your flower." He lifted the flower towards her in explanation, and winced when its bloom pitifully lulled between his fingers. "Sorry..."

"Oh, that's no big deal," she said, and he faintly exhaled Taking the flower, she continued, "We'll just cut the stem right about where it creased, and it'll be as good as new. So don't worry about it." She smiled at him, and it warmed something within him. Something that had chilled during his sudden migraine. "Okay?"

He only nodded.

"And you're positive that you're okay?"

"Yeah."

She nodded in response. "And don't worry, Cloud," she added, as if sensing his silent distress. Having already passed through Sector Five, they were just beginning to make out the tin, patchwork rooftops of the Sector Seven slums. "Your friend will love the flower anyway."

Cloud glanced at her, side-eyed. "How do you know?"

Aerith's eyes twinkled as she turned to him. "Because you'll be the one giving it to her."

Her words lit something within him, and he had to turn the other way to hide his growing blush, scowling all the while, his headache already forgotten.

"And then after you give her the flower," Aerith continued, "you'll introduce us. And then we'll talk until Zack gets here, and then maybe we can go out for dinner or something. And be back by sunset, of course," she added with a small sigh. "Hopefully Zack'll come back soon."

It was her voice, the fragility buried beneath her carefree tone, that made Cloud pause. Turning back towards the road, and squinting against the artificial sun's thin light, he said, "He will. But in the meantime," he added, his lips curving into a small, teasing grin, "we'll at least have some peace and quiet…" His tone trailed off as he scowled. "What?"

Aerith, who had been looking at him with a mixture of quiet joy and surprise, tore her gaze and shook her head, smiling all the while. "Nothing!" she said cheerfully. "Nothing at all. And I hate to break it to you, but..." She turned back to him, green eyes dancing beneath the artificial light. "Well, I'm not so quiet, either."

Cloud only shook his head, quietly smiling. "Just my luck."

Aerith laughed at that, and then they began the slow process of finding their way to the Seventh Heaven. They took a drunken, meandering route, if only because Cloud couldn't remember the exact way, and Aerith eventually had to ask someone for directions, but they eventually made it.

"It's quiet," Aerith noted as they ascended the steps. Each footstep rattled the old wood and rained dust underneath the planks. "Aren't bars supposed to be… I don't know," she frowned. "Busy?"

"They aren't open during the day," Cloud replied. Or at least, he _thought_ that's what Tifa said, but he couldn't be sure. His memory of the past few days was far too hazy to be trusted.

Aerith tilted her head to better read the _Seventh Heaven_ sign looming over the door, her eyes squinted against the thin light. "Think your friend is here?" she asked.

Cloud took a deep breath. "I hope so," he murmured before pushing the door open. His eyes instantly adjusted to the bar's dim lighting, so even while Aerith was still blinking and squinting into the dark, he had already noticed the three familiar men sitting at one of the tables. He could make out Biggs' dumbfounded expression as he looked up from his map, a complex tangle of blue lines and diagrams. Could clearly make out Wedge's surprise melt into a broad grin, as well as Barret's stunned, slack-jawed expression.

"You're alive," Wedge breathed into the quiet.

But they weren't who Cloud had been looking for, and his chest tightened as his eyes scanned the otherwise empty room. Yet Tifa wasn't here. She _wasn't here_ , and the realization had the mako within his gaze _burning_ as he turned back to Barret – because Barret, strangely enough, had begun to look _guilty_ as he stared at Cloud. And Cloud wanted to know why.

"Where's Tifa?" he demanded.

He nearly added, _And Jessie,_ but he wasn't given the chance. The stunned silence in the room had snapped and then Barret was suddenly flying to his feet, his chair loudly clattering behind him as she shouted, "The _hell_ have you been!"

Cloud instinctively shifted to stand in front of Aerith, shielding her from Barret's burning glare. "Not dying," he coolly replied – not entirely a lie – even as his eyes scanned the room, the mako within them brightening. "Well? Where is she?"

"Oh _shit!_ " Wedge's sudden exclamation nearly had Cloud jumping. " _Cloud!_ Bro, you're _alive!_ "

"And you brought a girl," Biggs noted, his tone somewhat stunned. "But I thought..."

Cloud loudly huffed his annoyance. "Where's -"

"Hi!" Aerith peaked over his shoulder, interrupting him. "I'm Aerith, Cloud's friend." To anyone else, her tone would have been friendly. _Warm,_ even, but Cloud heard something else; the barest hint of winter buried within her summer, and he looked at her over his shoulder, puzzled. She took no notice of him though, and only continued in that strange tone of hers, "I take it you're all friends of Cloud's?"

"I wouldn't say _friends,_ " Cloud muttered, too low for the others to hear.

Wedge's expression lit up. "Aw, Cloud said that?" he said, only for his expression to shift into something a little sober. A little more worried. "Wait wait wait. That doesn't matter right now! Bro, you need to leave _!"_

Now _that_ had his attention. His brow drawn, he turned to Wedge and deadpanned, "Not until you tell me where Tifa is."

"This is _about_ Tifa!" Biggs said, and then he suddenly walking towards him, his stride long and purposeful. Cloud shifted to better shield Aerith, which she was thrilled by. "You need to go to her!" the larger man continued. "Now!"

"I'm trying!" Cloud rarely raised his voice, but he was beginning to shout now. "Just tell me where she is!"

"But why?" Aerith asked over his shoulder. "What's with the rush?"

"Umm..." Biggs turned to Barret for support, who only sighed, gruff and impatient.

Barret was the one who finally answered. "Some... _thugs_ came looking for us. Bounty hunters," he said simply, which had Cloud's mako-stained eyes narrowing. "We have sizable bounty on our heads, and this guy Corneo knows who placed the bounty. Tifa is going there to get more information on the situation."

 _A bounty?_ Cloud suddenly felt cold, the sort of cold that couldn't be chased away with just a jacket. _This is exactly like Zack had said,_ he realized in dawning horror. Shinra is looking for him. Placed a _bounty_ on his head, and now Tifa is going to look for more information…

_Tifa's in danger._

The thought whipped through his mind so quickly, and with such stunning clarity, that it left him breathless.

"Where's Tifa?" he sharply demanded. "And who's Corneo?"

But Aerith knew _exactly_ who Don Corneo was, and her breathing impossibly shallow against his back. "What?" Her voice sounded tight. "She's going to Corneo?"

"Yeah, and she's getting ready at her apartment _right now."_ Wedge bounced back on forth on the balls of his feet, his nerves getting the best of him. "But since you're here, everything is okay! She doesn't have to go anymore!"

"You _let_ her go to Corneo?" Aerith glowered at the three men, looking far more angry than Cloud could have imagined her being. All of a sudden, she didn't look like she was holding a wilted flower, but a sword – one that she wasn't afraid to use. "After what you did to Cloud?"

 _That_ caught Cloud's attention and he turned to her, suddenly afraid of what she was about to say.

"You mean to tell me," Aerith continued, waving off Cloud's meek attempt to comment, "that after you _used_ Cloud, while he was sick with _mako poisoning_ and had just woken up from a _coma_ , to bomb a Shinra reactor _–_ which is dangerous and stupid and put a _bounty_ on his head _,_ by the way – you then use Tifa to get more information? His _girlfriend_?"

Cloud wanted to crawl in a hole and disappear. "Not my girlfriend," he mumbled, but his words fell on deaf ears.

" _And_ she's already worried sick about him, and probably isn't in her right mind!" Aerith loudly huffed before looking at all three men in turn, who's expression ranged from shock that a stranger was berating them, to utter devastation. "And you _still_ let her go?!"

"She insisted," Wedge protested, finding his voice first. "We told her it was a bad idea!"

"And mako poisoning?" Barret glanced at Cloud, his dark gaze unreadable. "Mr. SOLDIER-boy had mako poisoning? Why didn't you tell us!"

"Uh...Um..."Cloud bit his lip, shifted his weight to his other foot. How could he explain it? How could he explain that he had only just found out himself that morning? That he was messed up in the head that he was missing _five years of his life,_ and that he just _hoped_ that he had made SOLDIER because of his eyes, because it had been his dream sine he was a child?

_But what really happened was that I… that I had been expe…_

He thickly swallowed. Shifted his weight again. "Um, I… I don't…"

"Don't answer them, Cloud." Aerith suddenly grabbed his arm and tugged him towards the door, much to his surprise... and, strangely enough, relief. "As for the _rest of you,"_ she added, turning around with a sharp look, "I hope you think long and hard about your actions for the rest of the day. This is _incredibly_ disappointing – now Cloud and Tifa are _both_ in danger due to your stupidity and _apathy_ – and you should _all_ be ashamed of yourselves."

Cloud nearly winced on their behalf. He hadn't even been the one she had been yelling at, but even _he_ felt a little bit guilty.

Having finished her tirade, Aerith pushed open the door. A stale breeze pushed its way into the bar. "Come on, Cloud," she loudly declared, her hand still tight on his arm. "Let's go find Tifa."

Cloud could _feel_ the stunned stares of the rest of the team on his back. But at the same time, he couldn't help his small smile as he said, "Okay."

* * *

It was bad timing.

Tifa had all three of her dresses splayed out on her bed, a colorful mesh of blacks and blues and muted reds. It had taken her a while to even find them; stuffed in a box, hidden beneath the bed, wrapped and unworn with the hope that when she _did_ wear them, when she _did_ pull them out and unwrap them, it would be for someone special. Someone who knew her scars, inside and out, and someone who didn't mind that she specifically chose these dresses because they covered every single one. She had hoped to wear one of these dresses for someone who made her feel warm and safe and, dare she say it, happy. Someone who felt like home. Someone who made her feel like all of her silly childhood daydreams about love and romance had _meant_ something, that they hadn't been just silly, girlish fantasies.

Biting her lip, she realized that she had been hoping that she'd wear one for Cloud.

Yet here she was. Forcing herself to decide which one of her beautiful dress she would wear for _Corneo._ Corneo, who was none of the things she had been hoping for. Who only wanted her as some sort of trophy. As something to be won over, used, and discarded the next morning.

But there was nothing that could be done about it now. Cloud wasn't here, she needed something from Corneo, and the rest didn't really matter anymore.

Like she had said – bad timing.

So she didn't mind that her dresses smelled a little musty from being hidden away for so long. Didn't mind that there were a few creases, or that their rich colors had been dulled with dust, or that she wasn't even sure if they fit as nicely anymore. A small part of her shriekedthat she _should_ care. That if Corneo didn't like her – if he didn't think that she was _pretty_ enough – then she wouldn't be chosen as the wife. And if _that_ didn't happen, then getting the information on Cloud's bounty would be difficult.

 _But not impossible,_ she told herself as she ran a hand along the dresses' silky fabric. If Corneo didn't choose her, then she would get her information a _different_ way. A more violent way. The way she never wanted to rely on, but was especially tempted to now because it was _Cloud_ who was in danger.

A knock on the door snapped her out of her thoughts.

Tifa whirled, wide-eyed, even as her heart leapt up to her throat. _Cloud?_ She was across the room in the moment, her muscles tense as she threw open the front door…

… only to stare blinking, the familiar name that had ben kissing her lips withering on her tongue and sinking into her like a stone.

Jessie managed a thin smile. "Hi," she greeted at Tifa's blank expression. "Just us." Marlene beamed at her, completely unaware of Tifa's sudden deflation. "We thought we'd come help you get ready."

"Tifa!" Marlene rushed forward to latch onto Tifa's legs, and Tifa had to grab the door frame for balance. "Jessie told me that you're going to the princess ball!" She looked up, her brown eyes wide and excited. "Are you going to meet a prince?"

Tifa just about winced, but managed to school her expression into something like smile at the last possible moment. "I don't know about a _prince..."_ she managed to say. A _slug_ would be a better term, honestly, and even _that_ was generous.

"Actually, Marlene," Jessie said as she closed the door behind them. "The prince won't be there tonight, so Tifa's going to the ball tonight to talk diplomacy."

Marlene's lower lip puckered in confusion. "Diplosee?"

"Diplomacy," Tifa gently corrected. She reached down to pick the smaller girl up, and balanced her on her hip as she walked towards the bed – and her three dresses piled on top. "That means that I'm going to talk to a bunch of people and ask for stuff that I want."

Marlene's expression lit up. "Like how I ask Daddy for new toys?"

Tifa grinned. "That's right," she said. "You're so smart."

"Daddy thinks so, too!"

"And since you're so smart," Tifa continued, showing Marlene the dresses, "want to help me pick out a dress?"

"Really?" Marlene turned to her, and light danced within her brown eyes. "Really really?"

"Really really," Tifa grinned. It was strange; she had been so anxious earlier, but all of that was already melting away at the small girl's enthusiasm.

Not entirely though, and flared as Jessie dumped a makeup bag on her desk. "I also brought make-up," the ex-actress loudly declared. Her makeup was far bigger than one Tifa had ever seen, and it was far more full, too. It put her own meager collection to shame. "We can figure out the style as soon as you pick out a dress, though."

Tifa blinked. "Style?"

"Yeah, you know." Jessie waved her hand, as if this was all very obvious. "Do you want something more natural, or smokey, or matte? We could do something with more shimmer in it too, depending on the dress." She looked over Tifa's small dress selection with a practiced eye. "Pick one out yet?"

"Well, Marlene?" Tifa set Marlene on the ground, who immediately began to pat down the dresses with her small hands. "Have a favorite?"

"Mmm..." Marlene hummed, as seriously as she could manage, before she slapped one of the dresses particularly hard. "This one!"

"Be careful with the dresses, honey," Jessie told her. "They're special."

Marlene snapped her hand back as if the dress had burned her. "Sorry!"

"It's okay." Tifa plucked the chosen dress off of the bed and held it out in front of her, letting gravity pull down its thick fabric. "They aren't that special." _Not anymore._

The dress Marlene had picked was a black kimono-style dress, complete with a thick lavender belt corded with scarlet accent rope, and dark thigh-highs with matching boots. The exotic dress wasn't the most provocative in her collection – her indigo cocktail dress firmly claimed that spot – but it was still relatively flashy, with the bottom of its hem just brushing against her mid-thigh and a headband of pink flowers waterfalling into its plunging neckline.

But what Tifa _really_ liked about the dress were the sleeves. They were full and long; if she stretched her arms to her sides, their hems would fall down to her hips. In other words, they were the perfect place to hide a weapon. Preferably several.

"Good choice, Marlene," Tifa said honestly before draping the dress over the chair. Moving to pack up the rest in their boxes, she continued, "I think everyone will _really_ like it."

Marlene lit up. "Really?"

"Really really," Tifa grinned.

"Now all that's left is to get you into it." Jessie dug through her generous makeup up, pulling out eyeshadow pallets and lipstick that complimented the dress. "You're going to look _stunning._ Here, let me help you put it on."

"Oh, it's okay," Tifa said quickly. She glanced at Jessie's wide selection of makeup before turning back to her, swallowing thickly. "Really. I can put a dress on by myself."

Jessie rolled her eyes. "Obviously you can," she said, but then Jessie did something that Tifa didn't expect.

Jessie _hugged_ her.

Hugged her close, like she was something precious, like something she was afraid to lose. "I'm so sorry about Cloud," she whispered in her ear, far too low for Marlene – who was busy admiring the makeup and sparkling eyeshadow – to overhear. Tifa's eyes widened a fraction; a familiar burn tightened her throat. "He protected me on the mission. Protected all of us, actually. He's really strong. So wherever he is now," Jesie quietly murmured, "I know he's fine. I _know_ it."

Tifa's pressed her lips together, and suddenly it was an effort to blink back the tears budding in her scarlet eyes.

"And honestly..." Jessie suddenly pulled away from her, her hands heavy on Tifa's shoulder, he smile warm and kind. "He's probably just lost, and is too embarrassed to ask for directions."

A choked laugh bubbled out of Tifa before she could stop it. "You're probably right," she laughed, using her wrist to dry her damp eyes. "He can be so stubborn."

" _So_ stubborn," Jessie agreed with a grin. "Little bit better?"

Tifa smiled; her throat still felt tight, and her chest still felt like it was being squeezed and it was difficult to breathe, but she smiled anyway. "Little bit better," she agreed.

"Good." Jessie pulled the dress off of the chair and held it against Tifa. "Now how about I help you get in this dress?"

As it turned out, Jessie was an expert at wrapping kimonos, and made sure Tifa's hung on her frame properly and securely before sitting her down in the desk chair. Marlene watched Tifa's hair get done with enthusiasm, _ooh_ ing and _ahh_ ing in all the right places, and her enthusiasm was contagious. Even Tifa found herself smiling as her hair was straightened, tucked aside with bobby pins, and the floral ornaments secured in place.

"Beautiful," Jessie told her, her tone serious.

"Beautiful!" Marlene proudly echoed, kicking her feet out as she sat on the bed. "You're gonna be the prettiest princess at the ball!"

Tifa smiled at her, her insides clawing within her. "I hope so."

"Just wait until we get some makeup on you," Jessie grinned.

"And here I thought that we were finally done," Tifa teased, careful not to turn her head too quickly. She didn't want to mess up her hair, not when Jessie had worked so hard on it.

Jessie only laughed. " _Done?"_ she echoed. "Heck no! All we did is your hair. You think that I'm going to let you walk to Cor…. to the _ball…_ without any foundation or mascara? Girl," she drawled, "what kind of friend would I be if I let you do that?"

"Well." Tifa allowed Jessie to move her head this way and that. "I guess you know best."

"Darn straight," Jessie agreed.

And with that, they started on Tifa's makeup. As it turned out, it colors Jessie had chosen weren't nearly as gaudy or applied nearly as thickly as Tifa had been afraid of. Instead, Jessie had gone for more of a natural look. Primer, foundation, and highlighter to even and enhance her natural skin tone. Light pink eyeshadow and dark mascara to compliment the headband and bring out the scarlet in her eyes, and blushing rose lipstick to match. Then, after all was said and done, Jessie applied a setting spray to make sure the carefully-applied makeup lasted the rest of the day… as well as the following night, if such a thing would be needed.

"There," Jessie said after the setting spray had been applied. She threw the makeup in her bag and zipped it up. "That's that."

"Tifa!" Marlene bounded to her, but didn't latch on like she usually would. Instead she pressed her hands against her arm, as if she was afraid she'd break the dress. "You look like a princess!"

Tifa felt her cheeks warm. "Thank you, Marlene."

"Want to take a look at the mirror before your carriage arrives?" Jessie asked her.

Tifa hesitated, biting her loop. It wasn't that she _didn't_ want to see herself. But the truth was… she was a little nervous.

 _But what was there to be nervous about?_ she asked herself, and immediately followed up with a firm: _Nothing._ There was _nothing_ to be nervous about. She was Tifa Lockhart, a martial art expert, a survivor _,_ and she could handle _anything_ life threw at her. _Including_ a face-full of makeup.

Tifa slowly exhaled. "Yeah, let's see it," she said after a pause, and carefully picked her way to the bathroom, careful not to touch her face or walk too quickly. And when she got there, when she turned towards the mirror…

… she almost didn't recognize herself.

The face looking back at her didn't belong to a bartender working in the slums. Didn't belong to a member of a eco-terrorist group, or a martial artist, or someone who hid their scars behind clothes and smiles.

Instead, the reflection staring wide-eyed back at her looked… well, beautiful. But not the fragile sort of beauty, the temporary prettiness that belonged to a flower. Instead, her reflection was beautiful in the way that mountains were wild and unmovable, in the way that the stars were untouchable, in the way the sky burned in stunning, breathtaking colors before the dawn.

"It's… I… I don't know what to say," Tifa finally murmured. Turning back to Jessie and Marlene, she managed to say, her voice thick with emotion, "Thank you both so much."

"You look stunning," Jessie told her honestly. Her copper gaze was watery. "You'll knock their socks off, I swear it."

Marlene tugged on Jessie's pants. "Can _I_ wear a pretty dress, too?" she asked, her lower lip picked into a pout. "And makeup?"

"We can definitely put on pretty dresses when we get back," Jessie said, patting her head. "May have to convince Barret about the makeup, though..."

Tifa giggled, just _imagining_ Barret walking into the bar only to see Marlene dolled up in makeup. He would have an absolute heart attack.

"I can use diplosee," Marlene insisted.

"Diplomacy," Tifa gently corrected.

"And speaking of diplomacy," Jessie added, glancing at the door, "I hear something rattling outside. Think it's your carriage?"

 _My carriage._ Tifa's heart plummeted. She had almost forgotten; the man they had captured at the bar had ordered one for her, if only because that was the only way the prospect wives were allowed into Corneo's mansion.

And now it was here, waiting outside for her.

_Right now._

She quickly stomped down the anxiety that threatened to swell up within her, and instead shot Jessie and Marlene a thin smile. "Maybe we should check."

Sure enough, there was the carriage on the road, waiting for her. It was a gaudy thing, with red walls, ornate glass windows, and a thick pink curtain that separated its occupants from the rest of the world. The chocobo pulling the carriage idly scratched the dirt as the captured man held the reins, looking supremely awkward as Marle, her landlord and more-or-less adopted grandmother, glared daggers at him.

"I think Marle's giving him a hard time," Jessie murmured.

Tifa nodded her approval. "Good," she said simply, and slowly made her way down the stairs. She didn't know how Marle found out about her night, or how she ended up babysitting their captured man, but at the moment she didn't particularly care. She had other things on her mind.

To Tifa's endless surprise, the man's expression lit up when he saw her. "Thank the gods," he muttered as Tifa walked towards him, flanked by Jessie and Marlene. "You actually look nice."

"Is that any way to talk to a woman?" Marle snapped at him, causing the man to jolt in his seat.

"I – I – I mean." The man's gaze shifted between Tifa and Marle before finally resting on Tifa, his hands wringing nervously against the reins. "You, uh, look lovely. Wonderful. Like – Like a summer…" He winced. "Flower?"

Marle huffed. "Poor, but an improvement."

"Thanks for keeping an eye on him, Marle," Jessie murmured as Tifa eased herself into the carriage.

"Of course." Marle made a low sound, her gray bun bobbing in rhythm. "Can't have him running off on our Tifa, can we?"

Jessie grinned. "Of course not."

Tifa had made herself comfortable, and had situated herself on one of the plush seats, her legs delicately folded beneath her. "Good luck in there," Jessie told her.

"Have fun at the princess ball!" Marlene cheerfully added.

"And keep your chin up," Marle added, her expression betraying her anxiety. "And you come straight back, you hear?"

Tifa managed a small smile. "I will, I promise." She felt her eyes prick with warmth, but quickly stomped the emotion back; Jessie had worked so hard on her mascara; she didn't want to ruin it. "And... thanks, guys," she said hoarsely. "I mean it."

"I'll see you went you get back," Jessie said. "We'll celebrate! Wedge can buy the pizza," she added with a laugh.

Tifa managed a small smile. "That would be great."

There was a sudden crack as their captured man – now delegated to unwilling driver – snapped the reins, signaling their departure. "Time to go," he muttered, and the wheels rattled beneath the carriage as it rumbled forward, swaying with every rut and dip on the dirt road.

Tifa had to balance herself against the wall as she closed to the curtains to prying eyes, but as she was closing the last curtain, she thought that she saw a tuft of blond hair. Blond hair that was all messy and spiked in a heart-wrenchingly familiar way that she would recognize _anywhere._

Before she even realized what she was doing, she was throwing the curtain open and leaning out the window, prying eyes and ogling be damned, preparing to scream Cloud's name.

Yet the moment she had gripped the window frame and pushed her upper half outside, the sound dying in her throat. Because he had already turned the corner. Because he was _gone,_ and she was left blinking at the road that he had just been on, wondering if she had even seen him at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a lot going on this chapter - I hope that it wasn't too much??
> 
> Anyway, I'm not really sure how to say this, but: Starting this week, I'll be updating every 10 days instead of every Friday. Work has gotten exceptionally busy b/c I was put in charge of a few projects, and they're going to be taking up a lot of my time until... pretty much when the pandemic ends. 🙃 But anyway, hopefully having 10 days will be enough time; but if not, and it's still a little too much, then I'll bump up the days a little more. Either way, we'll be back on a more regular schedule eventually. Thanks for being so patient! 💖
> 
> \--
> 
> So with the new publishing schedule, the next chapter will be published on **Monday, August 31st** (feel free to [follow me on Twitter](https://twitter.com/Rand0mSmil3z)  
> if you'd like to see chapter previews!). Until then, stay well, stay safe, and I wish you all the best 💖
> 
> \--
> 
> If you're enjoying the story so far, it would mean the world to me if you'd support my writing by [visiting my Ko-Fi account](https://ko-fi.com/kaylagibfried). But of course, there is absolutely **no pressure** to do so - if you're happy with Halcyon Days, then I'm happy 😊


	20. Dirt Roads and Chocobos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Monday! 💙 I hope you all had a good weekend!
> 
> So it just occurred to me that this is _**Chapter 20??**_ Which means we're _halfway done_ with Halcyon Days??? Wtf??? When did that happen???
> 
> But anyway, while I deal with my mind being blown, please enjoy the chapter 💖 I'm not sure I 100% like how this chapter turned out, but I hope that you all like it regardless 😊

_"Tifa!"_

Tifa's apartment door slammed open as Cloud pushed his way through, and his mako-stained eyes jumped back and forth through the small room even before his shout faded into the walls. He did not hear Marlene's startled scream. Did not hear Jessie's loud curse, and only vaguely registered the sound of tiny bottles and containers raining onto the threadbare rug when Jessie dropped her bag. All he heard was a dull roaring in his ears. His muted breathing as his head whipped back and forth, looking for someone that was not here, that had already left. But it took him a few moments to realize it. To come to terms with the fact that Tifa _was not here,_ and his breath whistled between his teeth even as Barret's voice echoed:

_We have a sizable bounty on our heads._

_This guy Corneo knows who placed the bounty..._

And the pit of dread that had been pooling in his gut began to boil as he glanced over his shoulder to Aerith, who was still working her way up the steps. He was wide-eyed. His hands were clenched at his side. Anxiety was a song in his blood, a melody of jarring notes and clashing symbols; a steady crescendo clawing its way upwards, wailing and twisting and screeching all the while, a broken melody collapsing in on itself.

_... and Tifa is going there to get more information._

"She's not here," Cloud began, his voice strained. "She's not -"

But then he was suddenly interrupted by a pair of arms wrapping around him.

" _Cloud!_ " Jessie's voice echoed in his ear, snapping him out of his spiraling emotions as he was suddenly hugged from behind. "Oh my god, you're alive! I _knew_ it!" She squeezed him tighter, her chest firmly pressed against his back. "I _knew_ that you'd be okay!"

Cloud placed his hands on her arms, meaning to detangle her. "Um, Jessie..."

But Marlene's happy shout cut him off. "Cloud!" the small girl cried, and then threw herself at his leg. He had to grip the doorframe to keep his balance, and was thoroughly unsure of what to make out of this small child suddenly wrapped around his calf. He was mostly surprised that she knew his name, nevermind actually show him affection, but her smile was wide and bright as she looked up at him. "Daddy said that you went on a trip!"

Jessie, who had pulled away to make room for Marlene, winced. Cloud only stared in confusion.

"Uh..."

"Did you have fun?" Marlene relentlessly continued. "Did you bring any presents? Daddy said that his friend went on a trip too, but he never came back. Did you go see him? And Jessie said just now that you're alive." Her head cocked quizzically to the side. "Did you die?"

"Um..." Cloud slowly blinked. "Huh?"

"Yes, Cloud went on a trip," Aerith said behind him, saving him from replying. "I'm Aerith – his friend."

Marlene ducked behind Cloud's leg as if she was suddenly shy, which he didn't understand at all. It wasn't like she knew him any better.

"And," Aerith continued, kneeling down so that she was at Marlene's height, "Cloud _did_ bring you a present." She softly smiled as she pulled the yellow flower out of her pocket. Marlene's eyes went big at the sight of it, and Aerith's smile brightened. "And I know it's a little crushed, but I hope that'll be okay?" She handed the flower to Marlene, who then held the flower delicately - far more delicately than Cloud had been expecting from a four year old. Far more delicately than _he_ had, anyway.

"It's soft," Marlene said as she ran a timid finger along its petal. "Are all flowers soft?"

"Not all of them," Aerith replied as she stood back upright. "But some of them are."

Jessie clasped her hands behind her back. "And what do you say, Marlene?"

Marlene lifted her head, beaming. "Thank you, Aerith! And thank you, Cloud!"

And Cloud didn't fully understand why, but something inside of him softened slightly. Unwound a bit, and he murmured, "You're welcome."

Marlene's smile widened, and he offered his own timid, smaller smile before the reality of the situation came roaring back, and his smile slipped as he turned back to Jessie. Just like that, the anxiety that had been pooling deep within him was back; a writhing, bubbling thing that made him feel like curling up into a ball and running for miles, all at once. "Have you seen Tifa?" he asked, trying to keep his voice even. "We heard what happened back at the bar, and, um..."

"And we're looking for her," Aerith finished for him. Her tone had changed; while she had been speaking to Marlene, she had been only warmth and sunshine. Now there was a little frost to her tone, a slight chill that had not been there before, and it took all of Cloud's self control not to glance at her from over his shoulder. "Do you know where she went?"

Jessie shifted her weight to her other foot and wrung her hands behind her back, looking distinctly uncomfortable - and in an instant, Cloud knew: _S_ _he knows something._ Judging by her posture it wasn't anything good, and his anxiety shifted into something else. Something a little darker, a little colder, and the mako within his gaze flared as he continued, "Well? Where is she?"

Jessie thickly swallowed; her gaze darted to Marlene. "Well..." She worried her lip and shifted her weight, again. "Um, how do I put this..."

Marlene suddenly tugged at Cloud's leg, drawing in his attention. "Tifa went to the princess ball!" she stated matter-of-factly. Cloud's brow furrowed in confusion, but his confusion only multiplied as the girl continued, "She wore a pretty dress and rode away in a pretty carriage!"

 _What?_ "Tifa did?" That didn't sound right, and he turned to Jessie for confirmation. "Really?"

"I'm not lying!" Marlene protested. "Jessie, tell him! Tell him that Tifa went to the princess ball!"

Jessie shifted her weight to her other foot. _Again._ "Y – Yeah," she said after a lengthy pause. "That's right, Marlene. Tifa went to the princess ball."

Cloud's eyes narrowed. _Bullshit._

"You said that she left by carriage, Marlene?" Aerith asked from the doorway. Unlike Cloud, she didn't sound surprised – or even vaguely puzzled – by Marlene's declaration. In fact, she sounded as if this had been _exactly_ what she had been expecting, and her serious tone only emphasized that. "It wouldn't have been led by chocobo, would it?" she continued. "With red and gold paint, and thick curtains covering all the windows?"

"Yeah, like that!" Marlene eagerly replied. "A princess carriage!"

Cloud frowned at Aerith, who had pressed a thoughtful finger against her cheek. "What does that mean?"

Aerith's expression was unreadable. "It means..." she began, but her voice trailed off when she noticed Marlene's excited expression and then Jessie behind her, looking far less excited. "It means," Aerith continued after a lengthy pause, "that Tifa going to the princess ball in a princess carriage."

His shoulders slumped in defeat. _You're kidding me._

"See?" Marlene looked up to Cloud, grinning. "I told you so! Tifa is going to the princess ball! For diplosee!"

Cloud turned his frown to her. "Diplo...see?" _The hell is a diplosee?_

Jessie came to his rescue. "Diplomacy," she corrected before added, "Tifa is going to the princess ball for diplomacy."

Cloud only stared at her. Was he having some sort of fever dream? Another hallucination? Had the other half of Elmyra's potion already worn off, and now he couldn't understand basic language or something?

"What does that _mean?_ " he finally asked, unable to help himself any longer. "What are you even _saying?_ "

"It means," Aerith told him, "that we're going to the princess ball, too."

Cloud shot her a look. _We're gonna what?_

"But Cloud isn't a princess," Marlene helpfully pointed out. "He _can't_ go to the princess ball... _but_ ," she added, her face lighting up, "he can go as a prince!"

"I... what?"

But Aerith only grinned at him. "I don't know, Marlene. I think Cloud would make a good princess, don't you?"

Cloud's cheeks heated, and he clenched his jaw against it. "I would not."

"With that figure?" Jessie added, who now also grinning. "Definitely."

Cloud crossed his arms over his chest and looked away, scowling all the while. "I would _not_ ," he repeated. Aerith giggled behind him, and he - his face burning - turned to Jessie and quickly changed the subject. "When did Tifa leave, anyway?"

"A couple of minutes ago," came Jessie's reply. She shifted her weight to her other foot. "You literally just missed her."

"And where," he enunciated, "was she going? And _don't_ say a princess ball."

Jessie's eyes darted to Marlene, but was saved from responding by Aerith. "Don't worry, Cloud," Aerith said. "I know the way. Princess balls are _very_ common in some parts of the slums."

The way she said _princess ball_ was the same way one said _garbage dump_ or maybe _trash pile,_ and Cloud grimaced. Whatever they were talking about, it _definitely_ wasn't a princess ball, or... whatever. "Let's go, then," he said, and made a move towards the door.

"No!" Marlene suddenly latched back onto his leg, stopping him; one hand wrapped tightly around the fabric of his jeans, while the other still gently held the yellow flower. "Stay!"

"Uhh..." Cloud glanced at Aerith for help, but she only grinned and shrugged. Frowning at her, he turned back to Marlene and, crouching so that they were the same height, gently pried Marlene's fingers off of his leg. "Sorry," he murmured at her following pout. "But we need to find Tifa."

"How come?" Marlene demanded.

"Because she, um..." He fumbled for words. "She may... not want to be at the, uh, princess ball."

Marlene's brow furrowed. "Not want to be at a _princess_ ball? That's silly."

His lips tugged into a small smile as he detangled the last of Marlene's fingers from his pant leg. "I think," he quietly replied, "that she would rather be here with us."

Jessie's expression softened at that, so he had a feeling that that had been the right thing to say. Or at least, he hoped so. He really didn't know either way.

"Really?" Marlene asked.

"Yeah." He lifted his head a bit, just to meet her eyes. "I think she likes us more."

Marlene's expression lit up a bit. "Really?" she repeated. "Really really?"

"Really really," he affirmed, still faintly smiling, before standing fully upright. Marlene darted to Jessie's side, happy and content. "And, um, Jessie..."

Jessie, who had been watching the scene play out with a gentle expression, suddenly blinked. "Um, yeah?"

"Would you mind passing along a message for me?"

"Ooh, good call, Cloud!" Aerith suddenly said. Her smile was soft as she placed a hand on his shoulder, as if reassuring him that he had handled Marlene well, before she turned back to Jessie and continued, "His name is Zack. And he's tall – like, _really_ tall – and he has black hair that's sort of swept back. And he has eyes that look just like Cloud's."

"Oh!" Jessie's eyes lit in realization as she turned back to Cloud. "So he's a SOLDIER just like you, huh?"

Cloud tried not to flinch at her question. Tried to ignore Aerith's questioning gaze burning into his back, because she knew as well as he now did that he had never been in SOLDIER. That it had all been a story he had made up. A fabrication of his mind, stitched together with flimsy circumstantial evidence and a childhood dream.

"Something like that," he finally, doggedly, replied. "But, anyway, could you just tell him the same thing that you told us? About Tifa?"

Jessie squared her shoulders, determination flaring in her eyes. "You got it. If I see him, I'll pass that along." She thumped a fist to her chest, grinning. "You can count on me."

"Thanks, Jessie," Cloud said honestly, and then turned to follow Aerith down the steps. Their metal rattled beneath his boots as he hurried down them two at a time.

Jessie leaned over the second story railing. "Good luck!" she called.

"Bye, Cloud!" Marlene waved at her side. She wasn't tall enough to look over the railing so she stared between the rungs instead, her smile pressed against their weathered iron. "Bye, Cloud's friend!"

Aerith waved back to Marlene and Cloud imitated her, offering Marlene a small smile and a wave, before jogging to catch up. "So," he began, his voice low. The dirt clouded his boots as he pulled his hood back over his head. "Where are we going, _really_?"

For a moment, Aerith didn't answer him. The only noise between them were their footsteps, softened by dust and earth, and the muted conversations of others on the road as she effortlessly weaved through the crowd. Then: "We're going to Wall Market," she said. A cat hissed at them from the alley. A rat scurried beneath a tin house. "It's in Sector Six, so right next door."

"So not a princess ball, then?"

His comment managed to tug a small smile out of her. It was a worried smile, a thin smile, but a smile all the same. "Not quite."

"So what is Wall Market?" he continued.

"It's a…" Aerith suddenly sighed. "How do I even describe it?" They broke through the crowd and continued down the road leading out of Sector Seven. It was busier now than it had been in the morning. Some people pushed overfilled carts to see in the busier districts, others made their way to other, nicer train stations, while others held up cardboard signs asking for money, food, or work.

"It's… busy," she eventually continued as she stepped over a particularly deep rut in the road. "You can find anything there, especially if it's illegal or not allowed on the upper plate."

A stale breeze pushed through the road, sending empty candy wrappers and chip bags tumbling down the parched, cracked earth. "So who's Corneo?" Cloud asked. He stuck closely to Aerith as she cut off the main road that connected Sector Six to Seven, and they headed down a quieter, less busy path. He thought he could see a small park in the distance, though its colors had faded with age and its plastic cracked with use. "Barret said Tifa was going there to meet him," he added. "Is he dangerous?"

Aerith pursed her lips. "He is," she admitted. "But not in the way you're thinking."

Cloud glanced at her, his mako-burnt eyes shadowed by the lip of his hood. "What?"

"Corneo himself isn't dangerous. Like sure, he's slimy. Gross," she emphasized. "But he can't fight, can't wield a weapon, and he's not in the best of shape." Cloud nearly scoffed and said that he was worried for nothing then – Tifa could handle him and worse – but then Aerith turned to look at him. She pinned him beneath her emerald stare and continued, "But he has money. He can't fight, so he pays people to fight for him. He can't use a weapon, but he'll buy the best there is. And sure, he may be out of shape, but he's... cunning. It doesn't matter how strong or smart you think you are," she added, her tone serious. "He'll find a way to turn everything you have against you."

"Tifa's smarter though," Cloud protested. "And she's a great fighter."

Aerith only shook her head. "Cloud… you're not getting it."

"What aren't I getting?"

"That Tifa was told to wear a fancy dress, and then was picked up in a fancy carriage." She turned and began to walk down the road again, and her shoes crunched against a dry, dead shrub. "The only girls who do that are the ones Don Corneo are going to pick for a wife. A _wife,_ Cloud. And the ones that he chooses," she added, her tone darkening, "aren't ever heard from again."

For a moment, Cloud only stared uncomprehendingly. Stared and blinked, until realization sunk into him like a stone and he was left choking.

"Tifa… she… _what?"_ His cheeks flushed a furious color. "She's going to… She's gonna… a _wife?_ "

"Yes, his wife. _If_ she's chosen," Aerith emphasized. She didn't break stride as she hurried past the empty playground and down another dirt road. "If she's not chosen, then she'll be handed off to Corneo's henchmen. And I... I don't think I need to tell you why."

Cloud's stomach twisted nauseatingly. No, she _didn't_ need to tell him why, and he felt like the road was rolling beneath his boots. Like he was back on the train; the ground rumbling beneath him, the world swaying around him, his body struggling to regain its bearings but there was nothing to hold on to, nothing to grab for balance, and he was falling within it all.

"A wife?" he finally croaked. _"Tifa?"_

Gods, he didn't know what was worse; her being chosen and going to Corneo, or her _not_ being chosen and her being used by Corneo's men.

He thickly swallowed, trying and failing to eject the thought from his mind. "Why… Why would she…" he began, but then his eyes widened as he answered his own question. _There's a bounty on my and Barret's head,_ he recalled. _Corneo knows about it, and Tifa went to get information._

The world suddenly went very, very still and very, very quiet as he realized:

She was doing this for _them._

 _Damn it._ His hands clenched at his sides, and his fingernails dug crescent moons into his palms. There was some pain. But it focused him, grounded him, and the world shifted as the mako within him _burned._ Burned with a white, jealous heat that rolled in rhythm with his boiling adrenaline.

"No," he finally, resolutely declared. "She can't." His voice carried a storm, the same storm that had thundered when Sephiroth had burned down his home, murdered his mother, and then cut down both Zack and Tifa and left them to die. "That won't be happening." But the storm had no where to go but rage inside of him, a wild tempest that soaked into his skin, a thunder that pounded in his ears, a lightning that turned his veins into branches of burning, white light; and he finished, " _We're going to save her_."

"Yes we are," Aerith firmly agreed.

And the world shifted into striking shades of green.

* * *

Eventually, the uneven dirt road gave way to metal slabs, slabs that had been layered over one another and hammered into the hard earth. Rocky ledges lined the well-used road, and Cloud was eventually able to make out the elegant rooftops and peaked red spires of the infamous Wall Market. Paper lanterns, currently unlit, lined the road in an uneven pattern. Signs with painted red arrows pointed the way, and Shinra propaganda became more common the closer they got to Wall Market's main road.

Right outside of Wall Market proper was a small chocobo stable. The stable was a quaint thing, and looked as if it belonged to the rugged, rolling countryside instead of a massive city made of metal and mako. Its exterior was glossy with fresh red paint, and strung lights formed a canopy over the actual stable itself while dreamcatchers dangled from the roof-gutters, their colorful beads glinting against the artificial's sun pale light. A single chocobo slept curled up in the corner of the stable, a pile of fresh hay lying beside it. Its vibrant yellow feathers ruffled in rhythm with its deep, even breathing.

"Excuse me," Aerith called as she hurried to one of the stablehands, who was busy pouring fresh water into the trough. "One of your men gave a ride to a girl earlier. Do you have any idea who it was?"

The stablehand's frown was nearly swallowed by his thick, black beard. "Who and what now?"

"One of your men gave a girl a ride," Cloud cut in, rapidly growing impatient. The stablehand paled when his gaze slid to him; maybe it was the unnatural green glow to Cloud's gaze, or maybe it was his dark, stormy expression and how his body strung so taunt that it looked intent to snap. Either way, Cloud had the stablehands rapt attention as he continued, "We need to know who. _Now._ "

But the stablehand, to Cloud's unending frustration, recovered from his initial shock and only shrugged, as if bored. "Uh, sorry, but we didn't have any rides scheduled this morning." He sharply turned away to continue pouring fresh water into the trough, and it splashed over the sides and onto his leather boots. "We have some in the afternoon, though."

" _No,_ she was seen in one of those those this morning." Cloud roughly gestured to one of the gaudy carts, which were parked against the stable house. "If you didn't have any rides scheduled, then how come she was seen in one?"

The stablehand's expression twisted. "Well, we _did_ rent out one of the carriages earlier today..."

"Why didn't you say so in the first place?" Cloud snapped, but Aerith's hand pressing against his back cut him off.

"To who?" Aerith asked, shooting him a warning glance. Cloud turned away, scowling. It wasn't _his_ fault the stablehand was being purposefully difficult.

"One of Corneo's men," the stablehand replied, seemingly relieved to not have to deal with Cloud anymore. "I don't remember his name."

"You _need_ to remember," Cloud shot back.

The stablehand shrank beneath his glare. "I'm telling you -"

"It's _important,"_ Cloud interrupted, and ignored Aerith's hand pressing against him as he continued, "We _need_ to know _,_ and if you can't help us, I'll-"

"What's all the ruckus out here?"

The door to the stable cabin was suddenly thrown open, and the sounds of heavy boots echoed down the wooden steps. Cloud scowled at the newcomer; at the man's fancy bucket hat, his fancy full beard, his fancy white shirt, his fancy vest that mirrored the stableman's chocobo design. Even his _boots_ were fancy; leather cowboy boots, their seams embroidered with red and sides decorated with golden wheat.

Cloud instantly didn't like him.

"Sam!" the stablehand suddenly exclaimed. "You don't have to intervene."

But the man, Sam, only hummed and paid the stablehand no mind. "I don't know you," Sam decided, his dark gaze pinned on Cloud. He didn't seem bothered by Cloud's eyes' mako glow in the slightest. "What's your story?"

Aerith stepped in front of Cloud, as if to shield him. Or maybe it was just to keep him from arguing further as she explained, "We're looking for a girl who took one of your carriages. Maybe one of the ones you rented out this morning. Can you help us find her?"

"Hmm… Depends," Sam finally said, which had Cloud's blood boiling. "What d'you want with this girl of yours?"

"Why do you care?" Cloud snapped, only for Aerith's hand to press harder against his back.

"Sorry!" Aerith said quickly, shooting Cloud _another_ warning look before turning back to Sam. He glowered at his boots. "He's just really upset! See, it was his girlfriend who was in that carriage that you had rented out, and we want to save her!"

A knowing smile curved Sam's weathered lips, and he turned back to Cloud. "So that's how it is, huh?"

Cloud said nothing in response, only narrowed his eyes and thought angry thoughts.

"Well..." Sam turned his attention back to Aerith. "I gotta lot of customers. Hard to keep track of 'em all. This girl…" His dark gaze jumped to Cloud. "What does she look like?"

Cloud's gaze grew distant. "She..."

_She has small dimples in the corners of her lips that you can only see when she smiles; and then when she does smile, all you can think of is how you can get her to smile again._

_She has eyes the color of red wine, and you feel drunk every time you see them._

_She has a laugh that sounds exactly like home._

_Her hands are soft, even with all of the callouses on her palms and scars on her knuckles._

_She's stronger than anyone you know, more beautiful than anyone you've ever seen, and her legs -_

Cloud blinked.

_Her legs..._

"Well?" Sam said, interrupting his thoughts.

Cloud sharply turned away to hide his growing flush. "She's... in great shape," he said lamely.

Aerith shot him a long, dry look. "Is that really important right now?"

"Wait." By some miracle Sam seemed to understand, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezing shut. "You talkin' about Tifa?"

Cloud's head jumped up. "Yeah." His sharply inhaled; the storm within him went still. "Yeah, that's her. Have you seen her?"

"Oho," Sam teased, "looks like someone has a bit of a crush." The look Cloud gave him could have dried paint, and Sam's smile slipped. "Well, hate to break your heart, kid," he continued, "but it's going to be a long while before she sees the light of day again."

Cloud blinked.

It was suddenly hard to breathe.

To think.

Aerith had said the same thing, and the veins beneath his skin were burning again, filled with a fire that he couldn't douse.

"What do you mean?" he asked. _Demanded_ , and Sam suddenly had a sad look in his eyes.

"Well… she's a really pretty girl," he began. Regret flickered across his expression. "Corneo's hosting another audition -"

 _Another audition,_ Cloud thought sickly, _for a wife?_ _How many…_

"- and Tifa was chosen as a candidate," Sam continued with a hopeless shrug. "Got wind of it this morning, that one of Corneo's… _assistants_ by the name of Kotch requested her personally, and rented one of the carriages while he was at it. Must have been some girl," he added, his fingers rubbing his full beard, "to be specifically chosen for the title of Mrs. Don Corneo."

 _Mrs. Don…_ Cloud thought he was going to puke. " _Hell_ no," he bit out. "That's not happening."

"Sorry kid, but it's out of your hands," Corneo replied, which had Cloud bristling. "Unfortunately, Tifa is what the Don likes, all rolled into one sweet package… and with that in mind," he finished, "she won't be walkin' out of that mansion anytime soon. If at all."

Cloud bit his inner cheek so hard that he tasted iron. "So where can we find this Don Corneo?" he said, as calmly as he could manage. If what Sam was saying was right…

 _Gods._ He needed to find her.

_Right._

_Now._

"At his mansion in town - everyone knows where it is. Why?" Sam suddenly asked. "What're you askin' for?" His tone became guarded, his gaze watchful. "Thinking of raising holy hell or something?"

And Cloud lifted his head, and the mako within his eyes flared bright and hot. "I might be," he coolly replied. He was surprised by just how even his tone was, how cold and detached and hard, and his fingers itched to hold a weapon. Sword, rifle, wooden club, his own fists… it didn't matter anymore. He stopped caring a while back.

"Hmph." Sam watched him for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Well, do what you gotta," he said after a lengthy pause, "but leave me out of it. I told you what you want to know." With that he turned back to the stable cabin, and splayed his hand against the door's red paint. "Now take a walk."

Without another word he pushed open the door and stepped inside, letting it swing shut behind him. The stablehand followed quickly afterwards, and Cloud released the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.

" _Shit_ ," he hissed.

Aerith loudly sighed beside him, as if in agreement. "Well, there goes our best lead yet," she murmured before turning to him, her expression somber. "Maybe we'll have better luck in town."

Cloud met her gaze, his mako-burnt eyes burning. "Maybe," he said simply, and he turned on his heel and began heading into Wall Market, Aerith close behind. He had no idea _how_ he was going to find Kotch, but suddenly, that didn't matter. Just minor, unimportant details, because he'd find him. He _knew_ that he'd find him, and when he did…

His hands tightened into fists.

 _…_ Well, maybe it was a good thing that Zack was still cleaning his gunblade after all.

"Let's go straight to Corneo's mansion," he said to Aerith, who had fallen in step beside him. "Someone has to know something there."

"Sounds good to me," Aerith agreed, and Cloud tersely nodded.

It was time to raise some holy hell.

* * *

It wasn't even midday yet, and Tseng already wanted to day to be over.

His glossy dress shoes kicked up dust as he strode down the familiar Sector Five path, his stride effortless and his posture perfect. At first glance, no one would be able to tell the irritation flashing beneath his dark eyes. Wouldn't be able to see the frustration that had left him irritable and annoyed all morning, and yet it was there, simmering just beneath his skin, waiting for the opportunity to snap.

And it perplexed him. Left him wondering why he felt so... so _unbalanced_ , so _volatile_ , even as he kept his emotions on a tight leash as he continued down the road. His emotional state of being simply did not make any sense. Nothing drastic had happened recently, nothing emotionally upsetting, nothing even vaguely confrontational.

 _Well, except that Strife had helped blow up a mako reactor with Avalanche, a known terrorist group,_ Tseng dimly, darkly recalled. _And the security footage has already been circulated amongst Shinra's upper management, Hojo successfully identified him, and now there is a three hundred thousand bounty on his head._ Now they were living in the middle of the worst-case scenario. All of Shinra's bounty hunters were scurrying on both the upper and lower plates, and Tseng knew that it was only a matter of time before Strife would be found.

After that, it would _also_ only a matter of time before Hojo linked Strife's survival to Fair's survival, which would be... catastrophic, to put it simply. Only Fair could pull off the mission Tseng required him for; that is, assassinating the President and allowing Rufus to ascend onto the Shinra throne. If there was a silver lining to this entire situation, it was that Strife had successfully captured the _entirety_ of Shinra's attention. Heidegger needed both Strife and the man with the prosthetic gun to further secure his position as the head of the Public Safety division, Hojo wanted Strife for his twisted experimentation, and the rest of the Shinra brass were too busy trying to identify the other man than think further ahead than that.

Now all that Tseng required was Fair... except Fair was missing. _Gone,_ and a familiar flare of irritation flickered through him at the thought.

He couldn't recall another time he had felt so... so _frustrated,_ if he were to put a name to the stinging emotion. During the Turk all-team meeting earlier in the day, he had _wanted_ to snap at Reno for showing up late even though Reno had been late to meetings a hundred times before. Had _wanted_ to remind Elena of her Turk training and to keep her emotions under a tight lock and key, even though he himself was struggling at doing the same. He had also wanted to more _severely_ warn Cissnei of the dangers of going against the Turks and, by extension, Shinra, even though he himself was plotting to assassinate the President on the orders of Rufus Shinra. It had taken more self control than he would care to admit to calmly finish the meeting, and then excuse himself to continue his search for Zack Fair.

Tseng slowly exhaled. He had _almost_ wanted to request Reno and Rude's assistance during the search, but their focus was currently the Avalanche mission; their removal, no matter how temporary, would undoubtedly be noted by Heidegger. One of the bounty hunters had gone missing sometime in the early morning, and Heidegger was convinced that either Strife or the gun-armed man was the blame. No; better to leave Reno and Rude be, and continue the search on his own. Things would be easier that way. His only hope was that he found Fair quickly, because once Strife was captured... well, Strife would be handed to Hojo, would undoubtedly break soon afterwards, and then there would no longer be any point to keep Fair hidden after that.

 _But at least he will not remember his stay with the Turks,_ Tseng thought. Strife had been too dazed with mako poisoning to understand that he was in a hospital, nevermind a Turk-owned one, which was one bright spot in a series of dark events. Therefore, even if Strife _was_ recaptaured by Hojo, and Hojo _did_ make Strife tell the scientist everything he had done since his escape from Nibelheim, the Turks' relationship to his survival would remain a secret.

 _A small blessing,_ Tseng thought dryly, and he couldn't help but wonder:

_At what point had everything gone so wrong?_

He didn't follow that train of thought any further, and he eventually came across the building he had been looking for: An abandoned church, somehow still standing despite the rubble and carnage strewn around it. It had once been a masterpiece, with proud stone walls of stained glass and spires that cut higher than anything around it. But now some of its walls had crumbled. Its stained glass windows, each unique and depicting a scene of creation, had been shattered and now colorful fragments spilled down its marble steps and onto the dirt road. Even its spires had collapsed, their towers caving in. Light shown down from holes in the ceiling, and one lit Tseng's figure as he carefully stepped into the church.

The church's interior had not fared much better. The pews were lopsided and in disarray, and the stone columns that had provided support for the arched ceiling had long cracks running up and down their length. Secretly, Tseng disliked this place. It had a haunting atmosphere, a hollowness that made his shoes ring far too loudly throughout the room, and was dark even despite the sunlight – true, honest sunlight – pouring in from the mangled roof. In fact, the only spot of warmth belonged to the yellow flowers that bloomed through the broken floorboards.

But Tseng didn't even spare them a glance as his dark gaze flicked from column to column, from broken pew to broken pew, before he sharply pivoted on his heel and went back the way he came. Clearly, Aerith was not here.

And if Aerith wasn't here, then Fair was not here as well.

 _But not all is lost,_ he reminded himself as he made his way out of the abandoned church and back onto the dusty road. There was still one place he had not looked, after all. The one place that he tried to keep is distance from, even after all of these years – the Gainsborough residence.

Or, in other words… Aerith's house.

Tseng tried not to go there. Tried to respect her wish for privacy, one that she had firmly, and loudly, voiced many times before. But unfortunately, his duties as a Turk went far deeper than his… personal obligations. This was simply business. Nothing more, and nothing less.

But there was no denying that small kernel of guilt that had flared deep within his chest. That strange tension that had been following him all morning, and he found his pace slowing as he walked up the flower-lined path. Found himself avoiding his reflection in the crystalline river as he stepped over the bridge and, eventually, stopped in front of the home's front door. He lifted his hand to knock…

… but suddenly the door was yanked open before his knuckles hit wood. It was yanked open with enough force that there was a slight gust of wind, and Tseng was left blinking into it.

"Tseng." Elmyra stared down at him, her thin-lipped expression severe, her gaze hard and unyielding. "I thought I told you to stay away from my daughter."

"Let me remind you that Aerith is not your daughter," Tseng seamlessly replied. His tone was matter-of-fact, emotionless, and left no room for argument. "Frequent checkups are also a part of our contract."

Elmyra's eyes flashed; the wood groaned beneath her fingers. "I made no such contract."

"But Aerith did."

But Tseng did not add that Aerith had only agreed to the contract if he, in return, delivered her letters to Fair.

Which he had done.

Eventually.

"Aerith was a child," Elmyra told him, her voice a low, rumbling storm. "She is _still_ a child, and didn't know what it would cost her."

"And yet we still have a contract." Tseng's gaze slipped behind the woman, but the room was empty, and Aerith's shoes were missing from the front door. He nearly frowned at the sight, but his tone remained bland as he said, "Where is she?"

"Why should I know?" Elmyra crossed her arms against her chest, growing impatient. "My _daughter_ is old enough to go where she pleases, regardless of whether she tells me beforehand or not."

Tseng lifted his dark gaze. "You and both know that's a lie." His tone had shifted; there was a darker undercurrent to it now, something that went beyond just being polite. "I have been on the Cetra project for years, Elmyra, and we both have gotten to know each other quite well." He paused for emphasis. "You know _exactly_ where she is."

But Elmyra only met his gaze, seemingly unfazed, and it struck Tseng that she would have made a good Turk. In another timeline, perhaps.

"I do not," Elmyra slowly enunciated, "and the sooner you understand that, the happier we'll both be."

For a moment, they only stared at each other; Elmyra with muted anger etched onto her expression, while Tseng remained cool, unmovable, impassive.

But he was the first to turn away. "All right," he said. Elmyra blinked in surprise. "I understand."

"You -"

"I understand that you will not tell me Aerith's location," he continued, cutting her off, "but maybe you can answer my other question."

Elmyra leaned against the doorframe. "No promises."

Tseng almost – _almost –_ chuckled at her dry remark, but his tone betrayed nothing as he said, "Fair enough." The river babbled behind him. "My other question is: Where is Zackary Fair?"

Recognition flared in Elmyra's eyes.

It was only there for a moment, just long enough for Tseng to glimpse at the sudden familiarity, before it faded into Elmyra's hard expression and she was shifting her weight to other foot, looking extremely bored with their conversation.

"How should I know?" she said. "As far as I know, he disappeared out of my daughter's life close to five years ago. Why should I care where he went? Good riddance, if you ask me."

_Lies, lies, lies._

Tseng stopped paying attention halfway through Elmyra's small rant. Unbeknownst to her, she had already given him his answer. Fair _had_ been here, which confirmed his suspicions that he had met up with Aerith after all. And if he both he and Aerith were not here...

 _Then they are perhaps looking for Strife,_ he surmised, _unless they have already reunited. In which case…_

His lips curved into a slow smile.

"Thank you for your time," Tseng said simply, and then he turned on his heel and left, leaving Elmyra to gape unabashedly at his departing back.

* * *

Zack leaned against the train window, and his mako-stained gaze idly watched the world pass by in a blur of gray and brown. His arms were crossed over his chest and the train rumbled beneath him, a faint stutter that crescendoed to a rough lurch as the train took a sudden, hard turn. Glares were passed around as people bumped into each other. Apologies were muttered. One middle-aged woman glanced up at him with a _sorry_ on her lips, but then went mute when she noticed his luminous, mako-stained eyes. Her mouth worked, but nothing came out.

"Mako poisoning," he explained at her pallid expression. "Fell in a mako pod while working."

"Oh! S – Sorry." The woman flushed, clearly embarrassed, before she dropped her gaze and took a few purposeful steps away from him. Color continued to burn her cheeks as she stole glances at him, clearly wanting to say something more.

But Zack had already forgotten about her. He had other things to worry about… like getting into the Turk headquarters without drawing the Turks' attention. He scowled. It was most likely – no, _definitely_ – impossible. These were the _Turks,_ after all. They probably had his ID flagged or something, and already knew that he was on his way to the upper plate.

 _In fact,_ he thought, his fingers digging into his bicep, _they're probably already waiting for me at the station._

He scowled out the window for a moment, debating the likelihood, before sighing and shaking his head, a smile straining his lips. _When did I get so paranoid?_ The Turks have proven time and time again that they could be trustworthy. Cissnei had saved him and Cloud in the Midgar wastes, not to mention had turned a blind eye to him and Cloud escaping the lab. Tseng had delivered Aerith's letters to him. Both Reno _and_ Rude had taken him to the Turk information outpost so he could find out where Cloud went, after Cloud had checked himself out of the hospital and went missing.

Yet Zack couldn't help but feel… uneasy. Something was telling him that this was _wrong._ That the Turks were being a little _too_ nice, a little _too_ eager to help him when he needed it, and the more he thought about it, the more certain he was. Maybe it was just paranoia. Maybe Sephiroth's betrayal, who he had considered a friend at one point, had damaged something deep within him. Or maybe everything that happened afterwards left scars so profound, so raw, so _jagged_ , that general kindness was just… suspicious.

 _Or maybe I'm right,_ he thought to his reflection in the window, _and something's wrong._

The thought trailed him out of the station when they train had finally rolled into the upper plate station. Followed him down the busy road as he strayed into the shadows, his eyes flicking from unfamiliar face to unfamiliar face, before he eventually came to the marble steps of Turk Headquarters.

For such a small building, it certainly commanded a presence. A few individuals strode up and down its steps, and after a pause, Zack trailed in after them, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He easily passed through the security gate – undoubtedly because of the Turk ID in his pocket, yet he still breathed a sigh of relief when the gate flashed green.

 _So far so good,_ he told himself. No Turks yet. _Just… be cool._

Easier said than done. His shoes seemed to echo too loudly as he strode across the lobby and stepped into one of the elevators. He felt as if ants were crawling over his skin, their tiny legs whispering against his raw nerves, and he resisted the urge to scratch at his arms.

 _Relax,_ he ordered himself as the elevator door closed. _Stay calm. I'm fine, everything as fine._

Besides, compared to all the shit that he's been through, this was _easy_. All he had to do was go to his old lodging room, grab Aerith's letters from the nightstand, go down to the armory for the Buster Sword, and then leave. He wouldn't have to deal with any labs. Wouldn't have to trek across a continent, fight Angeal or Genesis clones, or do anything like that. All he had to do was go up and down a few floors and pick up a few things along the way. That was easy. _Easy._ Nothing to stress out about.

And yet stress out he did. He chewed on his lip as the elevator slowly pitched upward, and thought, _And if I bump into_ _Reno or Rude, maybe I can ask them how the Avalanche mission is going?_ It wasn't the worst idea, and it _would_ be an easy way to get more information on whether or not Shinra was searching for Cloud... _But,_ Zack continued, frowning, _they can't know that I've found him._ He didn't know why the Turks were being so nice to him, but what he _did_ know was that they were related to Shinra. And Shinra was, by far, the _last_ thing Cloud needed right now. Shinra represented everything that Zack wanted to avoid, because what Cloud needed was... well, stability. A calm environment to recover in. The sort of environment that hadn't been possible during their past year on the run.

 _But Cloud has that now,_ Zack reminded himself. Now Cloud had both himself _and_ Aerith to help him get through whatever was going on in his head, and Zack was positive that Elmyra would let Cloud live with her and Aerith until he got better. Hell, Cloud even had _Tifa_ now, someone that he knew from before, someone that he trusted – even if Zack didn't quite trust her himself, not yet, not after she let Cloud run around topside to blow up mako reactors. But regardless of Zack's personal feelings on the matter, Cloud had finally grasped some sort of stability again. Stability that he desperately needed in order to fully recover from his mako poisoning, amnesia, and whatever else Hojo had inflicted onto him.

 _And I won't let Shinra to get in the way of that,_ he knew, and his hands tightened into fists at his side. In that moment, he knew that he would do to anything to keep their small bubble of stability safe.

Anything at all.

And when the elevator dinged as it arrived onto the lodging floor, the mako in his eyes were burning bright and hot.

His steps rang hollow as he stepped into the hallway. _But the Turks also have a fully-equipped hospital,_ a small piece of him whispered as he made his way to his borrowed room. _Cloud could use some professional treatment, too._

 _But does he?_ another part of him asked, and he shoved his hands into his pockets as he turned the corner. _I mean, the Turks couldn't help with his mako poisoning._ The nurse had said so herself – all she could do was make Cloud comfortable until he woke up on his own. Nothing else could be done. _And besides,_ _he's awake now,_ _a_ _nd the potions seem to be helping._ His gaze occasionally slid to the shadows, to the voices echoing beneath closed doors. _Cloud's already so much better than yesterday. So he doesn't need a doctor anymore,_ he decided. _**Especially**_ _not a Shinra-paid doctor._

Which reminded him…

_They were **all** Shinra-paid doctors._

The thought hit him like a punch to the gut, and left him stumbling and sputtering. _Shit._ Goosebumps peppered his skin. _Shit shit shit._ He shouldn't have even agreed to the medical treatment in the first place. Sure, he had been unconscious at the time and filled with more metal that his actual sword, but he should have left the moment he had woken up. Should have taken Cloud with him, too. They were better off alone.

 _Maybe I should find out where they store medical data,_ Zack thought as he stopped in front of his door, pausing only momentarily before opening it. He felt numb. Spiralling. _Destroy it all, just in case._ _Because... Because what if Hojo wants it?_

Zack leaned against the doorframe for a moment before pushing himself inside the room. The door clattered shut behind him.

 _Except Tseng said that they don't work for Hojo._ He slowly exhaled as he saw the letters on the nightstand, right where he had left them, and he put them all in the box before cinching it closed, his hands faintly trembling. _But that they **do** work for the president._

He harshly sighed. _Damn._ He ran a hand through his hair, his fingers snagging the knots, and forced his grating breaths to even. _Why didn't I realize this earlier?_

But the answer came brutally quick: That he had been so focused on getting Cloud back up and running, so in shock from surviving the cliff and the unfamiliar feeling of safety afterwards, that he had completely forgotten that the dangers hadn't just ended because they got to Midgar.

 _No._ His hands clenched into fists. _I hadn't just forgotten_.

He had _ignored_ it.

Ignored all of the dangers because he had wanted to feel safe. Protected. Even - and he hated to admit this - cared for. He had wanted to savor it for a moment because he had _finally_ reunited with Aerith, Cloud had _finally_ woken up, and everything was _finally_ getting better. He had ignored everything else.

Like how the Turks worked for Shinra.

Like how Hojo was practically down the street now.

Like how everything was _definitely_ not perfect. That he still had to regain Aerith's trust and make up for five missing years, no matter what she told him or reassured him otherwise; and sure, Cloud _was_ getting better, but was nowhere near a hundred percent.

And now he had to deal with all of that.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath. He glanced out the window, at the jagged Midgar skyline through the glass window pane. At the plaza below, full of people and colorful shops, to the bustling streets leading in and out. He could make out cars on the highway, their red taillights streaking down the road, overlapping with one of another in a blur of motion and color. The mako-heavy sky rested heavily on the city, drowning it in a thin layer of haze. He could almost see it dew against the glass.

The glass fogged beneath his clammy fingers as he pressed his hand to the window pane. _What do I do?_ he asked his reflection before closing his eyes, his temple thudding against the glass. _Angeal… what would_ _ **you**_ _do?_

No answer was forthcoming, as expected, so Zack provided his own. _You'd probably tell me not to forget my SOLDIER honor,_ he thought with a smile, and then lifted his head. Pinned his gaze once more on the horizon, and continued, _And then you'd lecture me on staying focused during a mission._

He slowly exhaled. _That's right._ This was a time-sensitive mission. He only had an hour, two hours max, to screw around here before he met up to Aerith and Cloud. They were waiting for him, after all. He didn't want to let either of them down. He couldn't.

Not this time.

So he shoved himself off of the window and, while also shoving all of his spiraling thoughts into a deep, dark, forgotten corner of his mind, forced himself to move out of the room and down the hall. Forced himself to get in the elevator. Press the button. Stop fidgeting with the corner of the letter box as the elevator slowly moved downward. It was a small blessing that no one got in the elevator with him, and he silently thanked all of the gods, both known and unknown, as the elevator uneventfully dinged at his destination and the doors to the armory slid open. He stepped off…

… only to nearly run right into Cissnei, who had been busy slipping a dagger into the sleeve of her summer sweater.

"Oh!" She took a step backward, blinking in surprise. "Zack?"

Zack attempted a thin smile, but his nerves were frayed and it didn't feel natural. "Uh, hi." He side-stepped around her, determined to grab his sword and go. "Sorry about that – didn't see you."

"Wait." Her small fingers suddenly latched around his wrist, and her touch startled him. It took all of his self control not to snap his hand away. "You need to know something. But I..." She worried her lip. "I can't tell you here."

Dread sank into Zack like a stone, and he thickly swallowed. "How bad?" he asked, because really, he knew better than to expect something good at this point.

She met his gaze, and her copper eyes were unblinking as she replied, "Bad." She spared a quick glance at the armory, as if confirmed that it was well and truly empty, before she turned back to him and murmured, "You need to leave. It's not… It's not safe here for you anymore."

Then she let his arm go.

It fell limp at his side as his mind struggled to process what she had said. What she was implying. Yet his mind worked in circles, its gears grinding together, disjointed, breaking apart, snapping off little shards of anxiety with every grating rotation. It was like swallowing glass.

"What happened?" he finally asked, his tone equally low. His skin felt like it was burning, and yet his insides shivered as if cold. "Is Hojo..." He thickly swallowed, not wanting to ask, but needing to know regardless. "Is Hojo… Is he looking for us?"

Cissnei just about winced, which for a Turk was pretty telling. "He's not looking for you," she finally admitted. "But he is looking for Cloud."

Zack went pale.

 _Fuck._ "No." Every cell within him rejected the thought. Wanted to eject the notion from his mind and ignore it, like Cissnei hadn't said anything at all, but wasn't that his problem? Wasn't he in this mess in the first place because he ignored all of the dangers in Midgar?

Now he was paying the price.

"No," he whispered again. The box of Aerith's letters rested heavily in his arms. "Cissnei, please tell me that's not true."

But she only shook her head. "I can't do that," she murmured, and there was something like regret in her eyes as she looked back up to him. "I'm sorry."

Zack suddenly felt dangerous near to tears, but he brutally forced it back.

"Cissnei," he said, his voice hard, "you need to tell me everything you know."

She met his gaze. "I can't do that here."

" _Cissnei -_ "

But then she was looking past him, at the elevator that had closed sometime during their conversation. Her eyes narrowed, and then Zack heard it, too; the tell-tale rumble of the elevator making its way back down to their floor.

"Zack," Cissnei began with new urgency, "it's not safe here. So I can't explain everything right now, but I will. I'll find you," she swore. "I'll find you and tell you everything I know."

"Not as a Turk, I'm guessing," Zack ventured.

Cissnei sadly smiled. "Not as a Turk," she said, and then her gaze jumped behind him again. "Act natural."

Zack's brow furrowed. "Act -"

The elevator dinged behind him.

"Zack!" Cissnei suddenly exclaimed, as if it was their first meeting. Zack blinked in surprise. Her expression shifted; any seriousness, any hardness, faded away into something pleasant and warm. "I didn't expect to see you here. Have fun last night?" she added, her tone teasing. "We missed you."

"Uh..." Zack wasn't good at this. "My bad?"

"Zack!" Reno stepped out of the elevator, his eyes wide as he stared into the elevator. "Shit man, where the hell you've been? Talk about perfect timing."

"Oh, uh, hey Reno." Zack attempted a natural smile, but it felt stiff and awkward and wrong. All he could think about was Cissnei telling him that it wasn't safe here, that he needed to leave, but now Reno was saying that his timing was perfect… "Er, what's up?"

"Zack was just telling me that he got stuck on the upper plate last night," Cissnei said, covering for him. "He only just made it back down."

"Must have just missed Tseng, then," Rude said, who was now standing beside Reno. "He was on the upper plate all night."

"Huh, must have, then. Too bad," Zack replied, even as he thought, _Thank the gods._

"Anyway, because of the shit last night," Reno continued, tapping his foot impatiently on the floor, "Tseng ordered that we take you to Wall Market, lower Sector Six."

"Wall Market?" Zack's brow furrowed. He was familiar with Wall Market; _everyone_ had been, when he had still worked for Shinra as a SOLDIER. "Why?"

"For safekeeping," Rude answered. "We're familiar with your situation regarding Shinra, and they'll be vigilantly patrolling the streets for suspicious individuals. We don't want you to get involved."

Zack glanced at Cissnei, who looked as impassive as ever. "And Cloud?" he asked after a lengthy pause. "What about him?"

Reno and Rude briefly shared a look. A very _telling_ look, one that chilled Zack to his core before Reno turned back to him and replied, "You're gonna have to ask Tseng about Strife." Zack only stared blankly. "He didn't give us the details, really."

 _I bet he didn't,_ Zack thought darkly.

"But we'll find him, Zack," Cissnei quickly told him. She managed a thin smile, one that was meant to be comforting, but it only left pins and needles coursing up and down his spine. Her warning that it _wasn't safe here,_ that he _needed to leave_ was far too fresh in his mind for any sort of comfort. "And as soon as we do, we'll send him your way. You should go."

_You should go._

She was telling him that it was okay to go with Reno and Rude, and after a lengthy pause, Zack finally nodded. He'd trust her... for now. "Okay," he said, turning to Reno and Rude. "Let's go. When do we leave?"

"Now," Rude replied.

Reno nodded his agreement. "Yeah, man. Now. Tseng wanted you down in Wall Market like, yesterday. We're already behind."

"Fine," Zack replied, already turning away. "Let me just grab my sword first."

"Your sword?" Reno sighed. "Dude, you don't need your sword in Wall Market."

"Well, I always bring my knife," Cissnei pointed out.

"Well, that's different," came Reno's reply as Zack lifted his sword off of the wall. "You're a girl."

Cissnei arched a delicate eyebrow. "Oh?"

"I, uh, I mean… You're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, _obviously,_ but like… You know…" Reno sighed, giving up. "You know what? Never mind."

Rude dryly chuckled as Cissnei said, "Smart answer."

Zack pulled on a magnetic holster with practiced ease and snapped the Buster Sword on top.

And just like that, for the first time in days, he suddenly felt more in control. He had missed his sword's weight again his back. Its heavy reassurance, and _n_ _ow_ he felt like he could handle whatever the Turks threw at him. After all, no matter what happened, he could always fight his way out. Wouldn't be the first time, and probably wouldn't be the last.

 _And besides, maybe this actually may be a good thing,_ he thought. Wall Market was right next to Sector Seven, so he'd just sneak away while Reno and Rude weren't looking or something, and meet Cloud and Aerith that way. But of course, that meant that he wouldn't have the chance to destroy the medical evidence they now had on himself and Cloud…

He clenched his jaw. _Damn._ He should have asked Cissnei to do it while they had been alone, but whatever. He'd just have to do it later.

"Got your sword?" Reno asked when Zack got close, and when Zack nodded in reply, the Turk continued, "Good. Then let's go to the rooftop garage. We'll take one of the cars."

"Works for me," he easily replied, and followed Reno and Rude back into the elevator. He turned just in time to meet Cissnei's gaze on the other side; alarm flickered through her copper, eyes but then the doors began to slide shut and she tore her gaze away, biting her lip, holding back everything she had wanted to say.

Zack thickly swallowed, the box of letters suddenly heavy in his hands.

 _It's not safe anymore,_ she had told him.

_You need to leave._

"Hey, Reno..."

"Hm?"

"How long will I be in Wall Market?"

Reno shrugged as he fiddled with his stun rod. "I dunno," was his reply. "Until Tseng needs you, I guess."

The elevator seemed to chill ten degrees.

"Oh," Zack slowly replied. "Okay."

Rude glanced down at him. "You okay? You seem… off."

"Yeah, fine." Zack rolled his shoulders, trying and failing to fight off his raw, sparking nerves. _Shit._ Cissnei had told him to act natural, but what did that _mean?_ What did natural even _look_ like anymore? "Just… a long night," he lamely continued.

Reno seemed to accept the answer, and loudly huffed in reply, "Tell me about it."

The elevator dinged as they arrived onto the roof, and they all stepped out into the thin sunlight. Zack squinted into the artificial glow.

 _Wall Market,_ he thought glumly, _here we come._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed Confused Cloud as much as I enjoyed writing him 😂
> 
> But anyway, let's talk about Zack for a second. In Crisis Core, Zack's decision to go to Midgar was solely influenced by the fact that Aerith was there, but I felt like some of the other stuff - like Midgar being Shinra's HQ, Hojo lives there, old coworkers live there, etc - got swept under the rug a little bit? And I wanted to address that in this story.
> 
> Speaking of the story, you might have noticed that now Halcyon Days will be 40 chapters long (give or take a couple) and it is the first installment in the 'Reunion Cycle' series. My plan is for Halcyon Days to cover Midgar, and then we'll go from there until the end of FF7. So yes, an incredibly long story, but I'm so excited to write it & I hope you'll all join me to the end 😊
> 
> \--
> 
>  **VOTING**  
>  We have another dress scene coming up that I'd like your help with!
> 
> ➡️Voting will be the same as last time - please drop a comment letting me know what dress you'd like Cloud to wear in a future chapter 😊
> 
> ➡️ Voting will continue until September 14th (so two weeks to vote instead of one), which will give everyone plenty of time to vote ~~and give me plenty of time to write the chapter lol~~
> 
> Thank you!
> 
> \--
> 
> Chapter 21 will be published on **Thursday, September 10th**. Until then, stay well, stay safe, and I wish you all the best 💖
> 
> \--
> 
> I'm [Rand0mSmil3z on Twitter](https://twitter.com/Rand0mSmil3z) \- all of my chapter snippets get posted there first, along with story updates and general positivity 🌻 Links to my Ko-Fi and other stories are there, too!


	21. Rejections and Regrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Lab Flashback in 2nd Cloud POV (marked by separators), Johnny is Chaotic Stupid
> 
> \--
> 
> Happy Thursday! I hope everyone is having a good week so far 😊
> 
> Huge thank you to [silver_doe287](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_doe287) for being such an amazing beta reader 🥰 If this chapter sounds so much better than usual ~~(which is does lol)~~ , you know who to thank!
> 
> And without further ado, enjoy the chapter 💙

Don Corneo's mansion was far gaudier than Tifa had imagined. Its exterior was a brilliant red, while gold accents had been inlayed beneath the angled roof and around every wall. A large banner hung above the entranceway, dominating the space, and painted against its opaque background were bloody characters meaning _Corneo_.

The sharp edges and gentle curves of the characters made Tifa sick to look at, so instead she shifted her gaze and tried to ignore Corneo's name lording down on her. Paper lanterns hung beside the banner, and their scarlet glow gave the entranceway a hellish aura and lit her figure flame-red as she ascended the lengthy steps leading up to the front door. Golden dragons greeted her once she reached the top of the dais and their snaking bodies, carved out of hard marble, mirrored each other; they coiled and twisted around themselves in a complex knot made of hammered scales and pointed talons, and their slitted eyes followed her as she was escorted through the mansion's impressive doors.

Yet before Tifa stepped through the threshold - before the doors had fully opened, and the mansion's stale air hadn't quite reached her - she glanced back over her shoulder towards Wall Market, at the town stretched out beneath her, and something tugged painfully in her chest. She memorized its tin roofs and shambling buildings. Memorized how the streets wandered and tangled together, a hopeless mess of alleyways and side roads, before she sharply inhaled and turned back around, shoulders squared and chin held high.

It was too late to turn back now.

The inside of the mansion was just as gaudy as the exterior. The entrance hallway was packed tight with _things -_ things like statues, carts, water fountains, potted plants - but she tried to keep her gaze level, staring stoney-faced at the next door. Still, she couldn't help but glance to the murals painted against the walls... and what she saw struck her cold. The mural depicted some sort of battle. Spears stuck grotesquely out of prone bodies and fire wrapped around the border, and buried within the fire was a soaring angel. Its wings stretched across the battle while it looked down in judgement, its metal lips pressed into a scowl, and its harsh, apathetic frown chipped something inside of her. It was an effort to tear her gaze away. To remind herself to breathe.

 _It's too late,_ she reminded herself as she clasped her hands tightly in front of her. Her palms were cold and clammy. _I'm here._ _And I'm okay._

"Made it, thank the gods," her once-prisoner, now reluctant driver, hissed at her side. He slammed the doors behind them, and the sound echoed through the hallway. "Let's get this over with."

It was the first time Tifa had agreed with him all day, and she obediently fell in step behind him as he guided her through the entrance hall and to another set of impressive doors – these inlayed with the characters meaning _wealth, power,_ and _luck._ Three men guarded the door. All three looked very different from each other; the one of the far left had black hair, slicked back undoubtedly with a handful of gel, and he wore a similarly dark tank top with a golden dragon weaving around middle. The one on the far right had a similar feel about him - his leather vest remained unbuttoned, undoubtedly to show off his toned physique, and a black bandana covered his hair.

However, it was the man that stood in the middle of the group that had Tifa pausing. Unlike the other two, he was on the shorter side and slighter of frame, but he was far better dressed. A black cap covered his silver hair, and his similarly silver shirt was hidden beneath a dark leather vest. He also seemed to be the most self-assured out of the group: while the other two raked her with hungry gazes and shuffled impatiently on their feet, he only stood calmly, coolly, and his golden gaze never strayed from her eyes.

She was surprised to see something like regret in his expression, and she almost – _almost –_ dropped her gaze. But instead, she steadied herself and met his stare head-on. He blinked, as if surprised at the resolve burning within her crimson gaze, but then the corners of his lips twitched upwards.

She had impressed him.

"Kotch, you've made it," said the man to the far left, interrupting her thoughts. He didn't turn to look at her reluctant driver while he spoke to him, however. Instead, he continued to stare straight at her, his gaze pitched slightly lower than her face. She had the sudden urge to deck him. "You didn't check in last night, bro."

The man to the far right snickered. "Found a pretty lady to keep you company instead?"

"Piss off," her escort, Kotch, replied. "I didn't touch her. She's for the Don."

It was only then that the man in the middle, the one with the silver hair and golden eyes, turned away from her. "Hoping to get back in Corneo's good graces, are you?" he said.

"Shut up, Leslie," Kotch snapped. "Like you're any better off after what you did."

The silver-haired man, Leslie, narrowed his eyes a fraction, and for a moment, Tifa thought that they would begin arguing… but instead, he only shook his head and sighed. "Give her to me," he ordered, and lifted his head to once again pin her beneath his golden stare. "I'll take her to the waiting room."

"Hell no!" Kotch protested. He took a menacing step forward. " _I_ found her, so _I'll_ take her to the Don."

He _found her,_ he said… like she was a shiny stone in the road, and not a person made of flesh and blood and soul. Like she was a _thing._

The thought had her clenching her hands into fists, and they were lucky - _so_ lucky - that she wasn't wearing her gloves at the moment. That she wanted to make a _good_ _impression_. But the moment she got what she came here for...

"You sure you want to be talking to me like that?" Leslie asked. His tone remained unassuming, but there was something else buried there, something that sounded very much like a threat of violence… or the promise of one.

And Kotch thickly swallowed, suddenly nervous. "I..." he began, but then to Tifa's surprise, went silent. After a lengthy pause, he simply took a step backwards and inclined his head, clearly giving up. His movements were stiff and his shoulders were tight, and he just about bit out, "The girl's all yours."

Tifa's eyes widened in surprise. But for Leslie to have such command, that he could just order Corneo's men and they'd _obey_ him...

Her gaze slipped back to Leslie. _Who is he?_ she wondered. It was then that she noticed the necklace dangling from his neck; its pendant was gold and made of hard metal, and it had been carved into the shape of a delicate, blooming flower. In fact, it looked very much like a woman's necklace, which had Tifa frowning. There was a story there, she figured. One that she wasn't sure that she wanted to know.

 _Besides, why should I care?_ she asked herself. _The less I know about Corneo's men, the better._

Movement in front of her drew her attention back to the present. Leslie had opened the second pair of doors, and now had his hand extended towards her, clearly inviting her closer. "This way," Leslie told her, his hand still extended. "Let's take you to the Don."

Anxiety trilled within her at his words, a piercing song that set her nerves afire, but she pushed it all aside with a soft exhale. She needed to be stronger. As strong as she knew that she could be, and she looped her hand around his arm. "All right," she murmured, and he offered her a faint nod before guiding her deeper into the mansion.

But as they walked, their footsteps ringing hollow against the floor, she couldn't help but think… _I wish Cloud was here._

Something cracked inside her at the thought.

And just like that, the careful hold that Tifa had had on her emotions splintered, and she thickly swallowed past the hard lump in her throat. Suddenly, she _missed_ Cloud. Missed him _desperately_ , until _missing him_ became a physical ache in her chest; an ache so deep and so strong that her eyes burned, her chest felt tight, and the room didn't seem to have enough air. All she could now think about was that she _didn't know where Cloud was,_ if he was even _okay -_ if he was even _alive_ , and as she was escorted deeper into Corneo's mansion and her boots tapped against the tiles, all she could see were his blue eyes reflected inside every sapphire hammered into the wall. His blond hair streaked within the ceiling's golden mural, a pretty piece depicting angels, and light, and redemption – such sweet things, for so dark and tragic of a place.

Tifa dropped her gaze, blinking back the sting in her eyes. _I can't believe I'm doing this,_ she thought. Maybe coming to Corneo's mansion had been a bad idea. Maybe, just maybe, she should have stayed home and waited for Cloud there – where it was safe.

 _Except Cloud **wouldn't** be safe there, _she reminded herself. _There's a bounty on his head – a bounty hunter showed up this morning even – but Corneo knows who set it._

She slowly exhaled her growing anxiety. Forced her splintered, jagged heart to piece itself back together. _That's right._ Finding out that information was her responsibility, and the reminder steeled her nerves, steadied the storm brewing inside of her, and she lifted her head and squared her shoulders.

 _I can do this,_ she told herself. Then:

_Even if I can't, I have to._

"You don't want to be here," Leslie suddenly said.

She glanced at him in surprise – she had been so engrossed in her mind, her thoughts, her heavy emotions, that she had forgotten that he was here. But then what he had told her sunk in, and she lifted her chin and looked away. "I do, actually."

Leslie watched her for a moment, watched her with a too-knowing look set in a too-old expression. "No," he said, eventually. There was a strange finality to his tone. "You don't."

With that, he guided her to the second floor and towards the room situated in the far back. Compared to the rest of the mansion, this room was almost bland; it had no decoration, and with a pause she noticed that other men were already waiting inside. They, like the two remaining guards by the first pair of doors, wore leather vests, shirts with dragon-like motifs, and had hungry looks in their eyes that had her clenching her jaw and itching for a weapon - like the dagger hidden in the sleeve of her dress, for instance.

"Whatever you came here for," Leslie suddenly murmured behind her, "I hope it's worth it."

It was then that she noticed that Leslie hadn't followed her inside, and she turned to him in confusion just in time to see him say:

"I'm sorry."

And with that, he closed and locked the door.

Tifa's gaze narrowed, thoroughly unsettled, when suddenly the vents in the ceiling opened and a pink haze spilled out of them. The haze tasted sweet, almost sickeningly so, and she blinked at it in confusion before horror dawned within her.

 _I'm being drugged,_ she suddenly, stunningly realized, only for rage to flicker through her.

_How dare they._

She covered her mouth with one of her long sleeves even as she sprinted towards the door... only to immediately change tactics when the other men slipped on their gas masks. She could _use_ one of those, and she pivoted on her heel as she slipped a hand into her sleeve. Her fingers brushed against the cold hilt of her dagger...

... only for her leg to suddenly give out beneath her. She went wide-eyed as she collapsed, her knees cracking against the floor.

_No._

She curled her hand against the plush carpet as she struggled to push herself up, struggled to stand, horror spiking through her. Yet the ground swayed nauseously beneath her, and she couldn't muster up the energy to even move. Strands of dark hair fell in front of her wide eyes.

_Please, no._

Black spots wavered in her vision as she glanced back at the door, thinking now that maybe she could crawl to it and kick it open somehow... but then she noticed that the other men were walking towards her. She looked up at them, could see their smiles crinkle their shining eyes.

_Oh gods..._

They reached for her. She sucked in breath at their splayed hands and curled fingers, only to instantly regret it as sweet vapor filled her lungs. She coughed weekly, darkness flickering in her vision, until her body was unwilling to hold her up a moment longer and she sank fully to the floor.

_No, no no..._

A hand brushed against her arm, and she heard talking - something like how they couldn't touch her, how she was supposed to be saved for the Don, but it was just noise. Just white noise filling the spaces in her aching head, and her head rolled as she was pulled to her feet.

 _Cloud,_ she silently, slowly pleaded. _Save..._

Fingers wrapped around her arms, and her eyelashes fluttered shut.

The world went hopelessly dark.

* * *

Wall Market was far larger than Cloud had imagined... and far more confusing. The entire town had been built like a maze. Tin shacks were stacked beside each other and, in some case, even built on top of one another in erratic, leaning towers held together with cobwebs of tarps and strung lights. The shacks bled onto the main road in half-rotten blankets with fading colors, only to suddenly break off into thin alleyways and drunken roads that wandered between the proper buildings - the ones made of mortar, concrete, and roofs that didn't rust when it rained. Neon signs marked the more wealthy establishments. Painted cardboard signs marked the others, and some had been decorated with bits of broken glass or pretty stones plucked off the dirt road.

But it wasn't just the buildings that had Cloud tensing. There were people in the town, too; rough-looking people, people that he could all-too easily imagine having knives hidden in their sleeves, though a majority were sprawled out on the ground still sleeping off yesterday's liquor. Many still gripped glass bottles, and it was only the faint rise and fall of their chests that indicated that they were still alive.

Yet, despite the ragged town and the even more ragged people, it was the smell that had Cloud truly on edge. His nose wrinkled as it was assaulted with ripe old sweat, dried vomit, urine, and stale alcohol. _Gods,_ he already hated this town, and they had barely stepped foot in it.

"Wow," Aerith murmured beside him. "This is... something, isn't it?"

Cloud didn't even reply, only pulled his hood lower on his head as they walked down the main road. The sickening scent only grew more pungent the further they went, and he kept his gaze firmly on the middle of the road - he didn't want to see what was lying on the side or, even worse, in the alleys; though, his gaze would occasionally flick back to Aerith, just to make sure that she was okay. That she was keeping up, and that she wasn't nearly as grossed out by this entire venture as he was. He _had_ promised Zack that he would take care of her, after all.

And he intended to keep that promise.

As it turned out, Corneo's mansion was not difficult at all to find. The main road, as wandering and drunken as it was, led right up to its front door. Paper lanterns formed a net above the road leading up to it, and Cloud only spared a quick glance at the twin dragons guarding the mansion's entrance before pushing open the front doors.

 _Tifa,_ he thought as the doors groaned open, _please be safe._

He stepped inside. Aerith walked close behind, her steps ringing hollow and lips pursed into a frown. It was clear that she was just as tense as he was, if her silence was any indication, and he made a point to walk a little closer to her as they made their way to the front. He wasn't sure for who's benefit, though.

The three men who had been standing guard in front of the second pair of doors glanced their way as they strode forward. The two on the outside looked incredibly bored by their presence, as if they weren't even worth a second glance. But it was the silver-haired man, who stood in the middle of the group, who seemed to visibly tense at the sight of them.

"Not so fast, buddy," the silver-haired man said when it became apparent they weren't going to stop. He made a point to step in front of Cloud to block the door, and Cloud's eyes flashed with white-hot irritation - irritation that went completely ignored. Back it up. Got no need for pretty boys here."

"We're looking for someone," Cloud said, and there was a storm in his voice - a tempered edge that chilled the room and had the guards tensing.

Yet the silver-haired man only huffed a laugh. "Let me guess," he said, shifting his weight and placing a gloved hand on his hip. "First time in Wall Market?"

A tic worked in Cloud's jaw. "Yeah," he bit out. "So?"

"So people can't just walk through the Don's front door." The silver-haired man said this as if this was the most obvious thing in the world, and the two standing beside him cracked grins. " _Especially_ men."

Aerith suddenly lit up at Cloud's side. "Ooh, how 'bout me, then?" she piped up, lifting a hand. "Can I go inside?"

Cloud turned to Aerith, wide-eyed. "Aeri-"

"Maybe," the silver-haired man interrupted, and Cloud shot him a scathing look - one that, again, went completely ignored. "But you're gonna wish you didn't."

"Well, y'know, Leslie," began the man to his immediate right, the one wearing the dragon tank top. "She _is_ kinda cute." The other man turned to Aerith with a strange look in his eyes, one that Cloud did not like. Neither did Aerith, if the way she stiffened beneath his gaze was any indication. "Homely, but cute."

" _Excuse_ you?" Aerith said, outraged.

" _Kinda cute_ is not gonna cut it," said the silver-haired man, Leslie.

"Oh, come on," Aerith pouted. She turned to Leslie with her best pleading face, and added, "Can't you help us out?"

Something like frustration flickered across Leslie's expression, and there was a hard undercurrent to his tone as he told her, "Do you have any idea what you're gettin' yourself into?"

"Seriously, Les, she's not half bad!" interrupted the third man, the one wearing the black leather vest. "With a little help, I bet she'd clean up _real_ nice."

Aerith's expression darkened. "Cloud," she said without looking up at him. "Requesting permission to kill."

Cloud was _sorely_ tempted, but if Zack found out that he had encouraged Aerith to get in a fight... "Denied."

Aerith loudly huffed her frustration, and returned her pleading look to Leslie. "Please?" she said again.

And to Cloud's surprise, Leslie buckled beneath her stare. "Well," he slowly, hesitantly began, "if you're really sure that you wanna join the audition tonight... then you're gonna have to get official approval."

Aerith brightened considerably. "And who can give us that?"

"The Trio." Leslie crossed his arms over his chest, frowning. "They're the only ones in town that are considered authorities on Corneo's particular… tastes."

Cloud suddenly felt as if he had tasted something sour.

"First, there's Chocobo Sam," Leslie continued, lifting a single finger. Then he lifted a second and added, "And then there's Madam M, over at the massage parlor. And last but not least..." He lifted a third finger, and his lips twitched into a faint smirk. "There's the Honeybee Inn's Andrea Rhodea. They're an eccentric bunch, to put it mildly, and you should know that they don't recommend just any girl that is stupid enough to come knocking."

"Dully noted," Aerith said with a nod. "Thanks for the info. And," she added with a little smirk of her own, "we'll be back soon."

Leslie only huffed, but whether from amusement or exasperation, Cloud didn't know. All Cloud knew was that he was sick of this place, and so he turned back the way he came and followed Aerith back through the double doors, his hands in his pockets, absolutely fuming. The had been _so close_ to rescuing Tifa. _So close,_ and now this? This... whatever it was that they now had to do? Seemed like a waste of time.

Aerith seemed just as frustrated, though for an entirely different reason. " _Homely,_ they called me," she grumbled, her brow pinched and lips pursed as they stepped out into the open air. "I'll show them _homely._ "

Cloud squinted against the muggy breeze. "Is that really such a bad thing to say?"

"A _bad thing to say?"_ Aerith's jaw dropped as she turned to look at him, and Cloud suddenly wished that he had kept his mouth shut. All of a sudden, he was reminded of her rant back at the Seventh Heaven bar - at the look of devastation on Barret's face as she dug into the entire Avalanche team. "Of _course_ that's a bad thing to say!" she told him. "Especially to a woman! It's like… It's like calling them plain, or _boring_."

"Oh." Cloud shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets, trying to avoid eye contact. He didn't _really_ get it - plain or boring _definitely_ weren't the worst of insults, but… "That is bad," he agreed anyway.

" _Thank_ you," Aerith huffed. "Now let's head back to Chocobo Sam. I've got something to prove now."

Cloud nodded, even as unease coiled and twisted deep inside of him. It wasn't long before his steps slowed, and then he had stopped walking entirely, his gaze pinned to the ground.

It took a moment before Aerith realized that Cloud wasn't following anymore. "Cloud?" she prompted, placing a hand on his arm. Her tone was gentle. So gentle, that he wouldn't have guessed that she was even capable of verbally dragging someone through the mud. "Talk to me," she said. "Tell me what's on your mind."

But Cloud... Cloud didn't know _what_ was on his mind. He didn't know what to do. He _wanted_ to save Tifa, save her before she become some slumlord's _wife,_ but he didn't want to put Aerith in danger to do it. There had to be another way. A _better_ way, one that everyone came out of happy... but he couldn't think of it. He couldn't figure out a way to sneak into Corneo's mansion, couldn't figure out how to take out all of the guards without a weapon, and he had no money to even _buy_ a weapon... and sure, he could steal one, but Tifa wouldn't like that. She'd get upset at him. And he... he didn't want to make her upset, ever.

He didn't know what to do.

Aerith patiently waited for Cloud to collect his thoughts, and when he did, he slowly lifted his head. "Aerith… Are you sure about this?" he finally began, his hands fidgeting within the pocket. A familiar anxiety was bubbling inside of him. "I... It's just..."

His voice trailed off, and Aerith squeezed his arm. "Don't worry, okay?" She lifted her head to look at Corneo's mansion; at its banner, the impressive dragons curling by the entrance way, the scarlet paint and golden accents, before her gaze dropped back to him and she smiled. "I know this isn't ideal, but I have a good feeling about this. And my feelings are usually right, you know."

"If you say so... Maybe we should wait for Zack," he added. "He'd know what to do."

"But so do you, Cloud," Aerith told him. "We have a plan of action, and now all we have to do is go through the steps." But then she paused, biting her lip. "Unless you're okay waiting for Zack, while Tifa is in Corneo's mansion?"

Cloud grimaced. "N... No," he admitted, shoulders slumping. "That's... I don't want to wait."

"Okay." Aerith dropped her hand with a nod. "Then we'll just keep doing what we're doing, then - get the Trio's approval, sneak in there, and rescue Tifa. It's a good plan, Cloud," she said again, which had him frowning. "We'll save her. Don't worry."

Cloud picked at the stray fuzz inside the pocket. "But... But I don't..."

_"So that's the way it is, hm?"_

Both Cloud and Aerith whirled at the new voice; Aerith's eyes widening in surprise and alarm, while Cloud sucked in a breath and reached over his shoulder for a sword that wasn't there. But it wasn't some thug or mugger, as he had been expecting. Instead it was some random guy standing in front of them. The man had a dopey smile on his face, and wore nothing but an open jacket and a pair of jeans. He stood cross-armed on the steps in front of them, smirking confidently, and his dyed-red hair had been gelled up into something like a tear drop.

Cloud took a step in front of Aerith, his weight perfectly balanced on the balls of his feet... just in case this turned ugly. "The hell are you?" he demanded.

But the man only looked past him, as if Cloud wasn't even there, and continued speaking as if Cloud hadn't spoken at all. "So," he said slowly, "Tifa's been invited into the Don's estate..."

Aerith snapped her gaze to Cloud, wide-eyed. _He knows Tifa,_ her expression said, and Cloud's eyes met her gaze. His scowl deepened.

"... _B_ _ut,"_ the stranger seamlessly continued, "to earn such a privilege, you must first win the approval by one of the Trio." Suddenly he pointed at Cloud, which had Cloud jolting, and madly grinned. "Right?!"

"How the hell do you know Tifa?" Cloud asked, his tone molten. "Who _are_ you?"

"Me?" The corner of the man's lips lifted in a smirk. " _I_ am Tifa's number one fan, Johnny! And _I_ now know what I must do to save her!" But before Cloud could process such a statement, Johnny turned on his heel and lifted his arms to the metal plate above them. "Stay strong, Tifa!" he cried out. "Help is on the way!"

And with that, he dashed down the steps and disappeared into Wall Market, leaving both Cloud and Aerith blinking at his departing back.

Cloud was the first to react, and he turned to Aerith with a narrowed gaze. "Did you see that too?" he asked. "That… That just happened, right? That was real?"

Aerith looked just as incredulous as he was. "Yeah… I think so." She didn't sound very sure. "He said his name was Johnny?"

"And he knew Tifa, somehow," Cloud added, scowling down the road where Johnny had disappeared too. "I don't like him."

"Of course not," Aerith laughed, with a tone that had Cloud bristling. "But don't worry - he's not much competition for you. He doesn't seem like the sharpest tool in the shed, if you know what I mean."

Cloud hummed noncommittally. "Let's just go to Chocobo Sam," he muttered after a pause. "Get this over with."

Aerith nodded her agreement. "Let's do it."

* * *

The path to the small stable on Wall Market's edge was still fresh in Cloud's mind, and he had no trouble navigating the wandering road back to it. They passed beneath the net of strung lanterns. Passed the food stalls lining the road, most of them closed while they prepared for the busy night, and all of the shops with their strange items and painted cardboard signs. They had even passed by Johnny on the way, who had somehow ended up in a dejected heap on the side of the road. "I should have known better," he had muttered as Cloud and Aerith hurried past. "Always go with your gut..."

Sam was already standing outside the stable, waiting for customers, though his expression darkened when he saw Cloud and Aerith approach. "Not you two again," he said when they neared. "Told you once, I'll tell you a thousand times – got nothin' for you. Now scram," he finished with an impatient wave of his hand. "Go back to wherever you came from."

"Wait!" Aerith said quickly, stepping forward. "Hear us out. You're one of the Trio, right? I want you to get me into the audition."

Sam squinted at Aerith. "Huh?"

Aerith only clasped her hands in front of her... almost like she was praying. "Pretty please?" she said while fluttering her lashes.

And Sam, to Cloud's astonishment, eventually sighed and said, "Why not?"

"Really!?" Aerith exclaimed, lighting up.

Cloud only narrowed his gaze. "Really?"

"Sure." Sam placed his hands on his hips, his tan skin constrasting with his faded jeans. "Next time an audition comes round, I'll put your name in the hat."

Cloud went cold. _But next time will be -_

"But next time will be too late," Aerith protested, echoing Cloud's thoughts. "Can't you get me into this one?"

Sam only stared at her for a moment, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You want in _now?_ " he said, then shook his head with a snort of laughter. "No can do, sweetheart. I ain't got the time to place another bid, an' besides, I know better than to compete with Tifa. She's got this in the _bag_."

"Aw, don't say that!" Aerith pleaded, and Sam only scowled at her tone. His scowl deepened as she continued, "How can you be so sure that Corneo will pick Tifa? You never know, he may pick me!"

After a pause Sam exhaled, his cheeks blowing out with the motion. "Damn," he finally said. "You really do want in, don't you?"

"Sure do!"

Cloud tried to school his expression into one of indifference, but unease squirmed in his gut.

Sam only smirked. "Then how about we play for it?" the rancher asked, and he pulled a golden coin out of his pocket. It wasn't any coin that Cloud was familiar with, and his gaze narrowed as Sam pinched it between his thumb and forefinger before, with a strange look in his eyes, flicking it in the air.

The mako within Cloud's gaze flared as his eyes tracked its movements. Tracked its flips, its turns, how it glinted in the artificial light.

And the world shifted into shades of green.

Time slowed and all of a sudden, Cloud could clearly see the coin's rotations as it arched into the air. He could see the pattern printed against its metal: a chocobo, its face turned to the side... and both sides were identical.

 _It's a trick coin,_ Cloud realized as Sam snatched the coin out of the air and slapped it against his wrist. The sound echoed too loudly, and Cloud winced as the world faded back into regular shades, leaving him blinking and disoriented.

"Call it, missy," Sam told Aerith, completely ignoring Cloud. "Heads, or tails. Guess right," he added, "and I'll grant your wish. But guess wrong..." His gaze slid to Cloud, and the corner of his lips lifted. "And then you'll leave me in _peace._ "

Cloud shook his head, trying to clear it. "N - No," he finally managed. "It's... It's a trick -"

"Heads!" Aerith suddenly called, interrupting him. She had thrown her hand into the air in excitement; Cloud stared at her in shock. "I call heads!"

Sam chuckled and lifted his hand off his wrist, revealing the coin.

It was tails.

Just like Cloud had known.

"Well, don't look so glum," Sam said at Aerith's expression "You're a pretty enough gal, just… not quite the Corneo's cup of tea." She lowered her head in dejection, only to lift it again when he added, "But if only the Don would do… maybe try convincing one of the other two. That's why it's called the _Trio,_ and not the _me-oh,"_ he grinned. "Now _skedaddle."_

With that, he tilted his hat towards them and turned back to walk inside the stable lodgings.

"Wait!" Cloud stepped towards him, frowning, and Sam turned around with an eyebrow arched in question. "Mind if I... if I see that coin of yours?" he managed to ask.

Sam watched him for a moment before smirking. Without another word he flicked the coin to Cloud and disappeared inside the house, clearly done with them for the day, and Cloud caught the coin in his hand and twisted it between his fingers. His frown deepened. Both sides really _were_ tails.

 _But I shouldn't have been able to notice that,_ he thought as Aerith took the coin from him and inspected it herself. _It was like time slowed for a second there. Is that…_ He thickly swallowed. _Is that normal? Or is that..._

 _... Or is that a side effect from the experiments Zack had told me about._ A shiver ran down his spine; his head felt foggy, like the thoughts were becoming disjointed, the string tying them together fraying and unraveling. _A.. side effect from whatever they had done to me._

"That's cheating!" Aerith suddenly exclaimed, jolting Cloud out of his darkening thoughts, and then she turned to him with fire in her eyes. I can't believe he _did_ that!"

 _Did what?_ Cloud nearly asked, but he remembered _what_ a moment later, and he couldn't believe that he had forgotten in the first place. He thickly swallowed - he had to keep it together. Needed to stay calm. "Maybe... Maybe Wall Market is just that sort of place," he said. "Either way, we... we should be careful. Especially you."

"What! Why?"

"Because you're the... one who wants to infiltrate Corneo's mansion," Cloud haltingly explained as the two of them began heading back down the main road. "If something happened to you..."

"If something happens, then you and Zack would rescue me," Aerith stated matter-of-factly. Dust pillowed her footsteps. "So I'm not worried at all."

 _But who would rescue me from Zack?_ Cloud nearly told her, but didn't say it out loud. Instead he only shook his head again, trying to dispel some of the fog that was gathering in his mind. "So which... place do you want to check out first?" he managed. "The... The Honeybee Inn, or... or the... the massage place."

Aerith watched him for a moment, her expression unreadable. "You okay?" she finally asked.

Cloud just about winced. "Fine."

"Should we..." She bit her lip. "Should we look for a pharmacy or something first? Find you a potion?"

Cloud's brow furrowed and he shook his head. "No time." Besides, the thought of even _drinking_ that metallic stuff made his stomach flip, and he shook his head again. "Just... where should we go first?"

Aerith pursed her lips, clearly not believing him. But she mercifully let the matter drop, instead turning her attention back to the road. "How about the Honeybee Inn?" she offered. "I have a good feeling about that place, and besides, I think it's pretty close by. I saw it on the way to the stable." With that she turned off the main road, choosing instead to walk down one of the thinner alleys, and Cloud followed close behind. "Maybe the owner - Andrea Rhodea - can help us. We'll just... explain the situation, or something. They'll _have_ to help!"

Cloud said nothing in response. He only followed, his footsteps falling in rhythm with hers, his jaw clenched and nose wrinkled against the pungent alleyway smell. From there, they continued down the adjacent road – one that was lined with more adult establishments – before it ended at something like a plaza. The Honeybee Inn sat at its very end. It was something to look at, and even Cloud couldn't help but stare at the two cartoon-like neon structures of two honey bees hovering on top of its grand entrance. He didn't know _what_ to make of it, but he didn't have time to gawk for very long because without warning, Aerith suddenly grabbed Cloud's wrist and dragged him behind one of the buildings.

"Aerith?" Cloud began, surprised, but Aerith quickly hushed them. She had a severe look to her eyes - a look that meant something was wrong.

"Do you see that van?" she murmured. There was an edge to her tone that hadn't been there before, and she peered around the building's edge, eyes narrowed against the afternoon glow. Cloud, thoroughly unsettled, followed her stare. "The black one, parked in front of the Honeybee Inn?"

"Uh, yeah." It was hard to miss. All of the windows were tinted, and there weren't any decals on the van – nothing that indicated who could possibly own it.

"That's a Shinra van," Aerith said, which had Cloud going cold. But he resisted the urge to duck behind the building, to hide, and only continued to watch as someone inside cut the car's engine. "I'd see them all the time back on the upper plate. But why would one of them be..."

Her voice trailed off when she noticed who got out. Her eyes flew wide.

"Zack?" Cloud breathed, just as surprised. "But... But why would he..."

Whatever else he was about to say trailed off and faded with the dust on the road, because Zack reached into the car and hauled out his Buster Sword. It glinted in the pale light, its edge wickedly sharp, and Zack's expression was just as sharp. His lips set into an angry line, his brow furrowed, as he glanced around the road. There was a nervous twitch to his hands, yet he managed a thin smile at the two other men who got out of the vehicle.

Aerith grabbed Cloud's sleeve, a seemingly unconscious gesture. "Reno?" she gasped as a red-haired man, one wearing a black-and-white suit, shut the passengers side door. Her fingers tug into his arm. "Which means… Rude must be here, too."

Sure enough, a second man got out of the driver's side door - he was tanner than the red-haired man, Reno, and had no hair at all. He also wore a pair of sunglasses, which gave him a severe expression as he glanced around the road. Reno said something to Zack; Zack chuckled, but the tone sounded strained.

 _Zack doesn't want to be there,_ Cloud immediately knew, and something hardened within him. Those two men were Turks - he'd recognize those suits anywhere. He and Tseng had even gone on missions together, once upon a time, though he wasn't as familiar with Reno or Rude. But what he _did_ know was that the Turks _worked_ for Shinra. Zack was with the enemy.

Which had him realizing: _Have they captured Zack, somehow?_

Cloud ducked behind the building, his palms clammy and nerves humming with electricity. _No... No, Zack wouldn't let himself be caught._ Besides, it didn't _seem_ like Zack was captured. Sure, he looked uncomfortable, but he wasn't reaching for his sword or seemed like he was getting ready to fight. And he _had_ said that they had stayed in a Turk hospital briefly, right after they had been ambushed in the Midgar wastes. So... maybe Zack being with them had something to do with that? Except Zack _had_ promised that he would meet Cloud and Aerith at Seventh Heaven...

"I have a bad feeling about this," Aerith murmured, still peering out from behind the building.

Cloud pressed his lips together in a thin, white line. "Me too," he agreed, and then steeling himself, glanced back towards the van. Rude was ushering Zack inside of the Honeybee Inn, while Reno hovered outside with the car looking somewhat upset. _Angry,_ even. He seemed to be debating something important, completely with faint mutters and hand waved, when all of a sudden he hissed, kicked the dust so that it clouded around his ankle, and then pulled his phone out of his back pocket.

Cloud watched, frozen, as Reno dialed some number and held the phone up to his ear. He could faintly hear it ring once, then twice, and then...

 _"...Tseng, it's me,"_ Reno began, and Cloud just about flinched... though he wasn't entirely sure why. Reno's voice was faint, nearly too faint to hear, but Cloud was proficient at lip-reading – a small trick he had learned back from his infantry days, and had no trouble making out what Reno was saying. _"We collected Fair,"_ the red-haired Turk continued, _"and have brought him to Wall Market."_

"What are they saying?" Aerith hissed beside him.

"Reno called Tseng," Cloud murmured. "He's updating him on Zack. Just... hang on a second."

Aerith pursed her lips, but obediently went silent.

 _"...ain't a babysitter, Tseng."_ Reno was now pacing outside of the car, one arm waving animatedly. Despite being surrounded by the few people wandering the plaza, most didn't pay him any attention at all; those that did only gaze him a cursory glance, before turning away and continuing their walk, completely uninterested in whatever Reno was doing. _"I'm tellin' you… Wait."_ Reno's arm suddenly dropped limp at his side, and he went wide-eyed - the picture of absolute surprise. " _Wait_ , _really?"_

Cloud's body tensed at the sudden seriousness to his tone, and he ignored Aerith's worried glance.

 _"Shit,"_ Reno muttered. " _How did he get the photo…"_ His voice trailed off before he sharply exhaled, clearly frustrated. _"From Scarlet? ...That bitch...Yes. Yes, Fair is secure. Rude is watching him now. And the plan is to continue using Strife as a distraction?"_

Cloud went wide-eyed. _What did he..._

Reno paced the dirt. "... _He won't like that, you know,"_ he eventually continued. " _How do you suppose you're going to keep that a secret? Fair isn't an idiot – he'll figure it out."_

Cloud could only blink as his mind continued to be snagged on that word, _distraction,_ and spiraled. Sunk a little deeper into the fog. _I'm a distraction,_ his thoughts numbly repeated. _But... But why?_ Why would the Turks use him as a distraction? How? For what? Or worse, _f_ _rom_ what?

But then Reno answered his question with his next breath:

_"...Yes. Well, let's hope Hojo doesn't find Strife too soon, then."_

Cloud breath caught in his throat.

 _Hojo,_ his mind weakly echoed. His hand lifted and gripped the fabric of his hoodie; it was suddenly hard to breathe, to think. _Hojo,_ he wordlessly gasped. _He's the one who…_

* * *

_… and suddenly, he was looking through curved glass. The world was stained shades of green. He couldn't move; couldn't move, and all he could do was kick weakly as bubbles drifted from the metal respirator strapped onto his face and brushed across his eyelashes on their way upward. He suddenly wished he was one of them. One of those little bubbles, clawing upward, bursting on the surface and disappearing entirely. He wanted to disappear, too._

_There was sudden movement on the other side of the glass, and then Hojo's face came into view. His expression was warped and Cloud's vision was blurry, but there was no mistaking those owl-framed glasses. That hooked nose. That thin, twisted smile, the sort that had Cloud waking up in a cold sweat at night, the sort that seemed wildly pleased by Cloud's quiet distress._

_Cloud watched as his lips moved, but the words were lost. Lost somewhere between the glass and the thick mako he was encased in, and all he could do was slowly blink when his respirator's oxygen was replaced by something else. Something that tasted strangely sweet on his tongue, and with a sudden trill of horror, he realized that he was being drugged. He was being knocked out. Being knocked out for... for something else, something that Hojo didn't want him awake for, which opened a whole other realm of horrible, nauseating possibilities..._

_Cloud tried lifting his arms, tried to remove the respirator. He'd rather drown in this mako than be under a microscope again, yet his limbs felt heavy, his eyes were closing, and the darkness was rapidly pulling him under..._

* * *

"...Cloud!"

Cloud gasped, wide-eyed and trembling. "Fine," was the first thing he said. "I'm fine."

"Stay with me, Cloud," Aerith ordered. She had a hand against the side of his face, forcing him to look at her, to meet her gaze. "Everything is okay. You're safe now."

He managed a slow nod. _Safe,_ his mind echoed. _Safe, safe, safe._

"Breathe," Aerith told him.

And Cloud obediently took a breath. Took another when his lungs didn't fill with mako or gas, and the world slowly began to focus. The edges, once soft and warped by glass, began to sharpen. A building here. A streetlight there. Neon signs towering over him; his legs sprawled onto a dusty road. When he reached for his face his fingertips brushed against skin, instead of the hard metal of an oxygen mask. He released a shaky breath.

"Cloud," Aerith said, her tone delicate, "do you know where you are?"

He stared at her, uncomprehending for a moment, before realization bled into him and he nodded. "Wall... Wall Market," he said with a stutter - and just like that, the pieces began to align. "We're saving Tifa," he continued, lifting his head. Recognition flickered across his expression. "And now we... we gotta save Zack."

"That's right," Aerith replied, her voice reassuring. Yet her gaze was worried as she scanned his face, his expression, looking for any lingering pain or hurt. "What happened?" she asked after a pause. "Did you remember something?"

Cloud sharply exhaled, and he honestly replied, "I hope not."

Aerith's expression broke, and she suddenly she was wrapping him up in a hug. Cloud stiffened, his body going rigid, before he forced himself to relax. Forced himself to calm down. "I'm... I'm sorry," he said after a lengthy pause. His hands rested on her sides, unwilling to hug her completely, yet craving the contact. The comfort. "I freaked out. I'm sorry. I'm -"

"Sorry?" Aerith pulled away and locked her eyes with his. "Cloud, you have absolutely nothing to apologize for. I _promise_ that you don't."

He wasn't entirely sure about that, but he ducked his head regardless.

"Do you want..." She bit her lip, suddenly hesitant. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Cloud thickly swallowed. _No,_ he didn't want to talk about it. He never wanted to think about it again.

Aerith understood his expression, because then she nodded. "Okay," she said. "Okay, we don't have to talk about it. But... But do you want to tell me what Reno had said? On the phone?"

 _No._ Cloud didn't want to do that either, but he only exhaled and forced himself to say it anyway. "I... I heard..." His fingers twitched, and he suddenly wished that he was holding a weapon. Any weapon. It didn't matter to him which kind anymore. "Reno... he was upset," he stammered. "Tseng ordered him and Rude to watch over Zack, though I don't really know why. And he mentioned a... a photo, too. From Scarlet, but I don't know what it meant, he didn't say."

"Anything else?" Aerith asked when Cloud's voice trailed off.

"Um, he also said... he said..." He leaned back into the building behind him, feeling suddenly heavy. Like his limbs had been replaced by lead. "He also said that I... I was being used as a distraction. A _distraction,_ because..." That heavy feeling twisted inside of him. Pulled and tugged at things within him, things drawn so taunt that they seemed intent to snap, and Cloud squeezed his eyes shut. "Because... Because Hojo is looking for me."

Aerith went wide-eyed. "Hojo is?"

Even the mere mention of the mad scientist's name had shivers coursing up and down Cloud's spine. "Y - Yeah," he managed. "That's what Reno said."

"How did he...?"

 _How did he find you,_ Aerith had nearly said, and she didn't need to finish her sentence for Cloud to understand. He had a few ideas, starting with that damn reactor. He _never_ should have blown up that reactor, _n_ _ever_ should have agreed to do it. But if Tifa had gone in his place... His hand tightened into a fist. That wasn't acceptable, either. No, it was better that he had gone. Better him than her.

"It's... it's okay," he finally managed. "It's fine."

"Fine?" Aerith shot him a long look. "Cloud, this... this isn't fine, and you know it."

He did. He knew it so well that he could taste copper and iron, but for the moment, he just... wanted to pretend. "Let's just focus... focus on getting Zack away from the Turks," he said instead. He hands rested limp in his lap, and his gaze fell heavily onto them. The fog was lingering in his head. He thought he could hear birds. "Zack can help us rescue Tifa. And then... then we can all go home," he finished.

Aerith watched him for a moment as he ducked his head, again, and no longer met her eyes. Finally, she sighed. "Would that help?" she asked. "Help... you?"

Cloud simply nodded.

"Then okay," Aerith faintly exhaled, resolve settling within her. "Okay, let's do it. Let's go save everyone. And prove to everyone how badass we can be," she added, her tone almost teasing now.

Teasing for _his_ sake, so he felt a little better, and he closed his eyes. "Thank you," he murmured before lifting his head. Blinking slowly, he asked, "Where did they take Zack?"

"He went inside with Reno and Rude," came Aerith's response as she peeked out from behind the building, and her eyes narrowed at the Honeybee Inn's front door. "Think we should go after them?"

After a pause, Cloud nodded his agreement. "We'll need to be careful," he said.

"I think so too... and I think I have a plan." Aerith turned back to look at him, and her lips were set in determination. Determination and something else, one that had Cloud arching an eyebrow at. "So this is what we're going to do..."

* * *

Cissnei could count on one hand how many times she had regretted something.

The first had been when she had first been brought to a Shinra-sponsored orphanage, and had stolen another girl's dinner on her first night there. The little girl had cried all night, and Cissnei had felt terribly about it – terribly enough to swear to never do something like that again.

The second had been she had been scouted for the Turks, and had broken Tseng's nose during a skirmish. She had immediately set it, but his nose remained crooked to this day, and she couldn't help but feel a small twinge of guilt every time she saw him.

The third had been when she had simply let Zack go and drag Cloud with him, without even providing any help, transportation, supplies, or even information. She regretted that she hadn't done more to help them.

Her fourth regret was rescuing Zack and Cloud from the Midgar wastes, and damning them both.

And as for the fifth…

… Well, Cissnei wasn't entirely sure what she was regretting just yet. All she knew was that there was an ache deep in her chest, a heavy throb that threatened to bring her to her knees and leave her cold and shivering, and there was just no ignoring it. Nothing she could do to ease the ache.

But it didn't matter. When she walked down the Shinra hallway, her shoulders were squared and she kept her chin high. She had switched her summer dress for her Turk uniform, and the sleek blazer and sharp slacks cut a striking edge to her smaller, lithe figure. She felt dangerous. Powerful. And, with her large shurikan held tightly in her hand, deadly.

And everyone that glanced her was knew it, too.

So no one stopped her when she took the elevator to a prohibited floor. No one dared meet her stony gaze as she opened up one of the storage rooms, using a keycard she had stolen on the way in, and slipped inside the room. And no one saw her when she flicked on the lights and bathed the room in gold.

The Shinra storage rooms were in the basement floor, and they had been built directly into the metal plate that hung suspended above the slums. Inside the rooms were old artifacts, such as original mech prototypes, yellowing paper reports, and ancient jars and vials filled with useless samples. It was dust, cluttered, full of unwanted, forgotten things that had lost their purpose long ago.

Cissnei felt right at home amongst them. Her footsteps were quiet against the concrete floor as she made her way to the back of the room, where rows upon rows of boxes lined the sagging shelves. Names had been scratched into the boxes. Names that had belonged to either MIA or KIA Shinra operatives, and the boxes contained their old belongings – belongings that Shinra hadn't seen fit to send back home to their families.

She tried to ignore her quickening heart rate as she scanned the shelves, and it wasn't long before she came across the box that she had been looking for. This particular box was one of the older ones of the group. Its edges had been crumpled as if it had been dropped, its surface had dulled with age, and a fine layer of dust coated its cardboard. She made sure not to disturb the dust as her eyes flicked across its printed label:

**Zackary Fair**

**SOLDIER First Class**

**KIA**

That ache in her chest sharpened, almost painfully, so she tore her gaze away from the label and instead opened the box. But it was surprisingly empty. She had expected Fair to possess more… well, to be frank, junk. Yet all that was in the box were his Shinra-issued PHS and its charger, which she pocketed, as well as an old notebook and a few photographs. But the photographs themselves had yellowed and dulled with age, not to mention heavily stained with blood, and there was just no way to know who was in the images any longer.

With a faint, steadying exhale, one that disturbed the dust dancing through the room, Cissnei closed the box and pushed it back into its spot. She did so carefully, as not to provide any proof that she had been there at all, and then quickly exited the room. She double checked that everything was locked behind her. That she left no fingerprints, was not captured on any security camera, and that no one spared her a second glance as she walked back to the elevator and made her way to the lobby.

Yet when the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, Elena was standing directly outside.

Elena seemed surprised to see Cissnei... or at least, she was surprised at first. Then her eyes narrowed and her lips pressed into a thin line, clearly upset that she had been the one to run into her.

Cissnei met her sharp gaze.

They stared at each other, tension sparking between them.

And then, without another word, Cissnei stepped off the elevator, her strides confident and expression bland, betraying nothing of her internal emotions. Their shoulders brushed together as Cissnei strode past.

She could feel Elena's icy stare even after she had left the building, and she did not relax until she made it to the train station and had boarded the train heading to the slums.

But, when the doors slid shut and the train rumbled, groaning as it began moving along the tracks, she realized what her fifth regret was. And the realization startled her. Struck her cold.

Cold, because she just realized that she regretted joining the Turks at all. She wished that she had lived her life the way she had dreamed of as a child, instead of spending her short, twenty-one years being told what to do – _ordered_ what to do, no matter how much she didn't want to, not matter how painful it was, no matter how much it hurt.

Her hands tightened around Zack's old PHS.

 _But I can fix this,_ she told herself. In fact, she _would_ fix this. She would right every wrong she had committed - every wrong she had been ordered to commit, that she had been forced to obey.

And she would never, _ever_ regret something again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some updates:
> 
> ➡️ I'll now be updating Halcyon Days when I can, instead of publishing on a hard schedule. The deadlines were just becoming a little too hard to meet now that I'm writing two stories simultaneously ~~(why did i do that, honestly)~~ and getting this chapter done on time ended up being damn near impossible & not to mention a little stressful. 😓 **BUT** please don't worry - I will continue to update regularly until we reach the end (so about the same pace as we are now), just without the hard deadlines. I hope that's okay with everyone 😊
> 
> ➡️ Voting on Cloud's dress will close on **September 14th** \- aka, you still have time to vote if you haven't done so already 💙
> 
> Feel free to follow [my twitter](https://twitter.com/Rand0mSmil3z) if you'd like to stay updated on my writing schedule and see chapter previews. Links to my ko-fi and other stories are there, too! 🥰💖


	22. Hot Messes and Pretty Dresses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday! I hope everyone is having a good weekend so far 😊
> 
> First off, thank you _so much_ for so patiently waiting for the next chapter! Tbh I'm on new medication that makes writing a little more difficult, but this chapter is _finally _done and it's extra long as thanks 💙__
> 
> __And speaking of thanks, _huge_ thank you to [silver_doe287](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_doe287) for being the nicest, kindest, most amazing beta reader 🥰 She caught so many dumb mistakes and thanks to her suggestions, this extra-long chapter is much better than it would have been!_ _
> 
> __Enjoy the chapter (and the dancing 😉🐝💃)_ _

It was far too risky to enter the Honeybee Inn through the front door, so Cloud and Aerith decided to sneak in through the back entrance instead. They had to pass through an alleyway to reach it, and the alley was dark, dirty, and smelled heavily of stagnant perfume and stale liquor. Broken glass bottles littered the ground and their contents formed sticky puddles against the concrete, puddles that Cloud desperately tried to avoid. But his footsteps were shaky. His head felt foggy. His breath rattled his lungs, and it was only by focusing on the task at hand – meeting Andrea Rhodea for an approval, somehow rescuing Zack from the Turks, and then saving Tifa from becoming Corneo's _wife_ – did he somehow keep his jagged, fragmented self together.

Yet he couldn't help but remember what he had seen earlier. What Reno's phone conversation had _made_ him see, because it had felt far too real and far too recent; so recent, in fact, that he could still taste the metallic tang of mako on his tongue and could still hear the mako bubbling inside the glass pod. And that _noise –_ that sharp hiss of escaping vapor – had his gut twisting and knotting nauseatingly. He did not notice the puddle he had stepped in, did not hear it squelch beneath his boots, and he certainly did not notice the worried look Aerith gave him when he stumbled over a broken glass bottle. It rattled and cracked against the concrete as the butterflies fluttering in his stomach suddenly became bees; a hive full of bees that were crawling inside of him, buzzing and stinging all the while, their tiny legs scraping against his raw nerves.

"You okay?" Aerith asked him, and her voice was low. So low that he almost missed it.

His lips pressed into a thin, white line. "I'm fine," he lied. Lied, because the fact that she even to _ask_ just proved how not okay he was, and he shoved his hands in his hoodie and clenched them into fists to try to stop the trembling.

Judging by Aerith's concerned expression, she very obviously did not believe him, but she mercifully let the matter drop and continued to head down the alley. Cloud followed close behind, his jacket's hood pulled low enough that it shadowed his glowing eyes. His mako-stained gaze burned hot with both adrenaline and something else that he couldn't identify, something that both sang in his blood and cut deeply inside of him. It was a song that made him want to both hold a sword and never see one again. A song that had him wanting to push away everyone around him, to build a wall around himself and never let anyone soul inside, and yet simultaneously stirred a feeling so deeply within him that he desperately craved comfort. He wanted someone to hold him. To tell him that he was okay. To tell him that the things he had seen weren't real, that they had only been part of a nightmare and when morning came, they would burn away with the rising sun.

And he _hated_ it. He _hated_ that fragile, brittle cry buried deep within him, and he brutally shoved it aside along with everything else he didn't want to deal with. Things that he _couldn't_ deal with – not right now, maybe not ever. He tried to recall all of Zack's reassurances instead: reassurances such as there was nothing wrong with him; that the hallucinations were only because of the mako poisoning; that five years really wasn't that big of a deal; that things were finally looking up; that he would be okay.

He desperately – _desperately –_ wanted to believe all of that, yet no matter how hard he tried to accept it, it was like trying to force a puzzle piece where it didn't belong. It pinched. Stung. Crumpled at the edges. All he could do was stand there as Aerith rattled the doorknob of the Honeybee Inn's back door.

 _Just… focus on your infantry training,_ Cloud told himself, and he shakily exhaled the breath that he hadn't realized that he had been holding. _Stop being so… so distracted, and focus on the mission._

Right.

"Is… Is the door locked?" he managed to choke out.

Aerith made a disgruntled noise. "That's what it looks like." She reached into her hair ribbon and, with a flick of her wrist, pulled out a bobby pin. "They really don't want to make this easy for us, huh?"

"I guess not," Cloud said as Aerith knelt in front of the lock. Despite the dirtiness of the alley, the lock shined as if it were recently cleaned, though nicks and scratches marred its metal. She briefly inspected it, but then hummed and slipped the bobby pin inside. "You know how to pick a lock?"

Aerith glanced over her shoulder to grin at him. "I'm a woman of many talents," she said matter-of-factly, and then turned back to the lock. "But don't tell my mom, okay?" she asked as her brows furrowed in concentration. "She'll only get worried."

Cloud slowly nodded. "I won't tell."

"And how about you?" Aerith's breath snagged when the pin caught… but it was only a false alarm, and her lips pinched in displeasure. Sharply exhaling, she continued, "Do you know how to pick a lock?"

After a pause, Cloud faintly shook his head. "No," he replied. "Back in the infantry, we just… shot the locks off the door." Another pause. "Or one of the SOLDIERs in our platoon would kick it down to show off."

Aerith made a huffing noise when the lock caught again, but it proved to be another false alarm. "Sounds about right."

"Yeah." Cloud fidgeted with his sleeves, pulling at their cuffs, pinching the soft fabric. "And one time, Zack tried kicking down a door but it was made with reinforced steel. He ended up breaking a bone in his foot."

Aerith laughed. "Wait wait wait," she said, his lips tugging into a grin, "you're telling me that Mr. First-Class SOLDIER fought a door and _lost?_ "

Cloud lips twitched in a smile. It was a small smile, but a smile just the same, and Aerith's expression softened at the sight of it. "Don't tell him that I told you," he said. "He was bitter about it the rest of the day."

Aerith chuckled. "Poor Zack," she grinned as she returned her attention to the bobby pin. "Don't worry; I won't say a word."

"Thanks, Aerith."

"Don't mention it." She frowned as she continued to twist the bobby pin inside the lock, when all of a sudden she managed to tilt it at the perfect angle. "Yes," she hissed under her breath, and shifted the bobby pin just a hair…

… and the door groaned open with faint click. Aerith turned to Cloud, her grin wild, as he stared at the open door in shock. "Why so surprised?" she teased as she slipped the bobby pin back in her hair. "Didn't think I could do it?"

Cloud shook his head. "I just… didn't expect it from you."

"Like I said, I'm a woman of many talents." She swung open the door, revealing a dark room behind. "Well?" she asked, dramatically turning towards him. "Shall we?"

Cloud couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm, and he wordlessly followed her inside to the changing room… or at least, what he assumed was a changing room. Racks of clothes were stacked along the walls and formed a maze against the floor. That clothes themselves were gaudy, and their clash of color and fabric was nearly psychedelic. Suits flared with white and gold cut dramatic figures between black and gold leotards. Top hats hung on hooks drilling into the wall. Iridescent wings, nearly translucent in the pale lighting, were delicately draped along strung wires. Bulbous bee stingers were stacked in the corners in small, pointed hills.

Cloud assumed that the bee-themed attire was the Honeybee Inn's uniform, but there were other clothes that he couldn't make sense of at all… such as the giant dresses displayed in the far corner. _Princess gowns_ was the phrase that came to mind when he looked at the heaping bundles of dyed satin, silk, tulle, and bows. One was a simple black gown with rivulets of satin waterfalling down its front and a bow cinched beneath the bodice, while another was little more than a royal blue corset with a flurry of shimmering black fabric bunching at the hips and before draping down the legs. Delicate bows and fishnet stockings and sleeves completed this outfit.

It was the third dress, however, that had spots of color darkening his cheeks. _This_ dress was a blushing pink shade, and had every aspect a storybook princess gown would have: puffs of glossy fabric highlighting every curve and dip, bows strategically placed to highlight the flared hips and chest, and so much fabric spilling down the legs that Cloud couldn't figure out how anyone could _stand_ in something like that, let alone walk around.

"Admiring the dresses?" Aerith asked, and she giggled at his flushed expression.

He gestured helplessly at the three dresses. "Would _you_ ever wear something like this?"

"Why?" Her eyes flashed as she saw an opportunity to embarrass him. "Want to see me wearing one?"

The color on Cloud's cheeked darkened further. "Wha – _No!_ They're just… just, like… You know what," he sputtered, "never mind. We need to focus anyway. Let's find this Rhodea guy, talk to him and save Zack, and then get the hell out of -"

The door suddenly opened, cutting him off, and laughter and conversation pushed its way inside the cluttered room. Cloud went deathly still as Aerith's head snapped towards the door, but it was too late to hide as a group of honeygirls and boys waltzed inside… only to freeze when they noticed the two intruders.

Cloud's mind, already a bit foggy, stumbled over itself as it tried to think of something to say, something that wouldn't blow their cover, but nothing came to mind. He couldn't think of _anything,_ and he could only stare with wide eyes as his thoughts did summersaults.

But all of a sudden, Aerith suddenly stepped in front of him with a gasp. "Ms. Folia?"

One of the women, who was standing in the middle of the group, jolted. She was very pretty, and her coily hair was pulled back into a neat bun and dark eyes were wide beneath her glasses. _"Aerith?"_ Her painted lips formed a perfect _o,_ and there was so mistaking her shock… or her sudden horror. "You… What… What are you _doing_ here?"

"What are _you_ doing here?" Aerith shot right back.

"Folia, you knew these guys?" one of the others asked, a man with perfectly manicured eyebrows and sweeping black eyeliner.

Folia, after a brief pause, nodded. "Yeah. Aerith and I are friends, and I'll… I'll take care of this, don't worry," she quickly added. "They aren't intruders, don't worry."

"Are you sure?" asked one of the women of the group, a petite woman with bouncing blonde curls and sparkles adorning her long eyelashes. Her glossy lips were pursed in a perfect pout. "We can get rid of them if they're bothering you!"

Cloud internally winced. The phrase _get rid of them_ sounded strangely familiar… an icy cold feeling suddenly trickled down the small of his back, and he shivered before glancing back at Aerith. But Aerith was only staring straight at Folia, apparently stunned speechless.

"And you _know_ that they're not supposed to be here," the other man told Folia in a stage whisper. "We could all get in trouble..."

But Folia quickly waved him off. "No, we won't. No one is getting in trouble, and I'll take care of it, okay? You guys get ready for practice – I'll be right there."

The woman with the perfect pout crossed her arms over her chest. "Are you sure?" she asked again. "Like, are you _positive?_ "

Folia managed a wane smile. "I'm sure," she promised.

After a long pause the woman finally nodded, apparently satisfied. "But if anything happens," she added as the rest of the group collected their outfits and headed back out the door, "let us know. Okay?"

Folia nodded once again, and with that, the door gently closed.

The moment the door closed, however, Folia became an entirely new person. " _What_ do you think you're doing!" she demanded, and Cloud just about jumped. "You know better than to be here!"

Unlike Cloud, Aerith didn't seem at all surprised by Folia's transformation. "We didn't have a choice!" she said, scowling. "Things happened, and -"

"Your mom is going to be worried _sick_ about you," Folia continued, unperturbed. "I mean, _Wall Market,_ Aerith? Seriously?"

"I could say the same to you!" Aerith retorted. "What are _you_ doing here? Why aren't you at the Leaf House, taking care of the kids?"

Color spotted Folia's cheeks, and Cloud took a step back, trying to make himself appear as small as possible. "Well… Well, today is a big day," she stammered, "but I got someone to cover for me, okay? It's not a big deal, really. You think I'd let the kids fend for themselves?"

"But their lessons -"

"Biggs is taking care of it," Folia interrupted, which had Cloud perking up at the familiar name.

"You know Biggs?"

Folia turned towards Cloud, as if noticing him for the first time. "Yeah, we're old friends," she said, her brow knitted and he lips pursed in displeasure. "We practically grew up together, but that's beside the point. You're friends with Biggs? How do you know him? Who _are_ you?"

Cloud internally winced. There was no way in hell he could tell her the truth on how he and Biggs met – that they were both involved with Avalanche and helped blow up a Shinra reactor – but he was having trouble coming up with any other explanation. "Well," he began after a lengthy pause. "Well, my name is Cloud, and… um…"

"So why _are_ you here, Folia?" Aerith cut in, saving Cloud from having to say anything more. "At the Honeybee Inn, I mean?"

Now it was Folia's turn to wince. "Well, the money is good, and I… It's always been my dream to…" Her voice trailed off, but after a moment she shook her head and pierced them with a glare. "It doesn't matter why I'm here," she finally stated. "The fact is, it's _dangerous_ here. You're lucky I found you instead of the security team. But anyway..." Her gaze slid back to Cloud before coming to rest on Aerith once again. "Now it's your turn. Why are _you_ guys here?"

Aerith frowned. "Well, it's kind of a long story," she admitted, which had Folia arching an eyebrow.

Cloud continued, "One of our friends is being held by the Turks, and they're staying somewhere in the inn. We… We want to free him. And also..." He thickly swallowed, unsure exactly how to continue. "A… close friend of mine was taken by Corneo. She was taken for one of his auditions to be his – his wife, and we want to save her. This guy named Sam said that Andrea Rhodea could help us, give us the approval that we need to get us into Corneo's mansion. Do you know…" He shifted his weight on his other foot, swallowing hard. "Do you know where she is?"

Folia, who had been listening intently to his story, suddenly chuckled. "So first of all, Andrea is a _man,_ not a woman." Even Aerith giggled a bit at him, which had Cloud's ears burning. "And also..." Folia grew more somber, and continued, "I don't really know how to tell you this, but you really can't just meet him. The next appointment is three years away."

Cloud blanched. _Three years?_ "But we don't have -"

"Folia, we don't _have_ three years," Aerith cut in, her tone just as desperate as he felt. "The audition is _tonight_ , and I _have_ to get in." She took a step forward and took Folia's hands in her own, much to the other woman's surprise. "Can't you do something? Anything?" And when Folia hesitated, she quickly added, "I'll provide flowers to the orphanage free of charge for an entire year. I'll do whatever it takes, we just _have_ to get that approval."

"Please," Cloud added, taking a small step forward. The thought of Tifa all alone twisted inside of him, and he inclined his head. He'd get on his knees if he had to.

After a while, Folia sighed. "Fine. I'll… I'll do it." Cloud lifted his head, wide-eyed. "But just know that, whatever happens, it's not my fault," she quickly added as she opened the door, but paused only long enough to glance over her shoulder. "Understand?"

"We completely understand," Aerith quickly replied, and as they began to follow Folia out of the room, she shot Cloud a grin and poked him in the ribs. "See?" she told him in a hushed whisper. "Told you that we had a good plan."

Cloud made a noncommittal noise as he rubbed his ribs.

"Usually Rhodea is in the back, meditating," Folia told them as they headed down the hallway. Like the costume room, the walls were gaudy and painted black with gold trim. Hexagonal chandeliers dangled from the ceiling. Music echoed from somewhere far away; it was a faint melody, pretty yet melancholy, and it struck Cloud has strangely nostalgic. "He always meditates before any big performances," Folia continued as they walked. "Says that it soothes him. Helps him find his inner balance, or something like that."

"That's interesting." Aerith walked beside Folia while Cloud hung behind, his hood raised and hands shoved into his hoodie pockets. "So you have a big performance tonight, then?"

Folia nodded. "That's right. It a little different than usual because, well… Corneo hasn't been very happy with our other shows." Her lips twisted, as if she had taken a bite of something sour. "He had the nerve to tell us that they weren't _provocative_ enough, if you get my meaning."

Cloud's expression darkened.

"I hate that man," Aerith solemnly declared.

Cloud silently agreed, and judging by Folia's taunt expression, she did as well.

"But anyway," Folia pushed her yellow-rimmed glasses higher up on her nose, and continued, "due to such a high-profile guest's feedback _,_ Rhodea had no choice but to change a few things for tonight's performance. It'll be the first time we'll be doing this dance. And it's not too bad," Folia admitted, "definitely not as bad as I thought it would be, though I wish Rhodea had the freedom to plan whatever he wanted. He's a genius, you know."

"A genius?" Cloud echoed behind them.

"That's right. And a little eccentric too," Folia admitted, "but… well, you'll see what I mean."

Aerith hummed as they neared a doorway. "So… not to change the subject, but I _have_ to know. Why did you want to become a dancer, Folia?"

Folia, who had been about to open the door, suddenly tensed. Cloud didn't think that she would reply, but after a moment, she surprised him. "Well… I guess it was my childhood dream," she admitted. "It's just something that I've wanted to do; you know, dance on the stage, wear all of the costumes, and make people happy for a little while. Help them forget about their life for the few minutes that I'm up there, you know?"

Cloud didn't really understand, as he was no dancer and had no interest bathing in the public spotlight – but as for wanting to follow childhood dreams, _that_ he understood. He understood it _perfectly,_ to the point where simple _understanding_ cut into him as deeply as a knife, because his dream had blown up in his face and had burned down with the rest of his childhood.

But as for Folia…

"I'm glad you're able to dance," he told her honestly, just as Folia was about to open the door. She glanced at him, surprised. "That you… made it."

Folia's expression softened. "Thank you," she told him. "And I hope this isn't presumptuous of me… but I hope that you'll find everything you're looking for, too."

Cloud's throat tightened and, thankful that the hood covered most of his expression, only managed the briefest of nods.

Folia's smiled at him, but it slipped the moment she turned back to the door. "Rhodea's office is through here," she told them both. "I can introduce you two to him, but you'll have to convince him to help, okay?"

Cloud nodded. "That's fair."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Aerith added matter-of-factly.

Folia grinned at the both of them. "Good," she said, but then her severe expression grew a bit gentler, and she added, "Good luck in there." With that she opened the door, and the three of them stepped inside.

Andrea Rhodea's office was set up in much the same way as the rest of the inn, in the sense that it also had the black-and-gold motif and that hexagonal shapes also dominated the space. However, that is where the similarities ended. Candlelight sent red-tinged shadows dancing against the walls. Towering crystals took the firelight and threw it in all directions, a kaleidoscope of colors splayed out against every surface. Incense smoked on their ceramic stands, and in the center of the room was a plush cushion, and perched upon it was Andrea Rhodea. He wore a very tight and yet very striking black suit with a fur-lined collar and bright geometric shapes inlayed into the gaudy garment.

The air was cloaked in a thick blanket of rich, heady scents, and Cloud felt almost lightheaded as he carefully made his way forward. He nearly sneezed but fought it desperately; but Aerith lost that war: she sneezed like a double-barreled shotgun beside him, and it nearly startled the life out of him in the process.

"What?" she quietly demanded when Cloud turned towards her with a look of unabashed shock. Color stained her cheeks, and her brows were with embarrassment. "A girl can't sneeze anymore?"

Cloud quickly looked away. "I didn't say anything," he quickly replied, trying to sound collected, yet there was no hiding the faint tremor in his voice… or the way his heart was trying to claw out of his chest. _Gods,_ she sneezed loud.

"But you _thought_ it," Aerith accused, her voice low and tense.

Cloud grimaced. "No, I -"

"Who is it?" Andrea Rhodea suddenly asked, cutting off all conversation. His voice was silky smooth, completely unlike what Cloud had imagined, and it had an almost musical quality to it – like he was about to break out in song at any moment. Then when Rhodea slowly got to his feet, Cloud realized that he was also far slimmer and more refined than any of Corneo's other men had been. His body was lithe, much like a dancer, and when he finally turned around…

There was a hard edge to his expression that made Cloud go cold, a strange light in his eyes that flickered somewhere between genius and madness. Cloud ducked his head to hide his wide-eyed expression.

Suddenly, he didn't want to be here anymore.

 _But I had to come,_ he reminded himself. _For Zack. For Tifa._

_I have to save them._

"I brought two guests," Folia delicately said from the door. "I know that this is rather… unconventional, but they're friends of mine and they have a rather unconventional request."

Rhodea arched an eyebrow. Ash fell from one of the incense burners and landed in a soot tray. "A request?"

"Two, really," Aerith began from Cloud's other side. Cloud shot her a worried look, though she couldn't see it due to his hood. "It's something of an emergency, to be honest. My friend and I need your help."

There was a long stretch of silence, punctuated only by the sounds of footsteps echoing behind the closed door; the distant lullaby of a violin clawing its way upward; the harsh groan of metal as stage lights were adjusted and names were called.

Finally, Rhodea pressed a delicate finger against the hollow his cheek and simply said, "I see."

"Can you help us?" Cloud pressed.

Rhodea's attention flicked towards him, and suddenly Cloud found himself pinned by those steely gray eyes; the sort of eyes that seemed to know far too much, the kind that pierced him far more deeply than sword could.

And then Rhodea sighed as if he was addressing a small child, and said, " _Help_ is quite the fickle creature." His voice was light and lofty, almost breathless as he rubbed his manicured goatee. "It can mean many things: money, donations, time, labor, or emotional expenditure. And sometimes, all of those things at once." He paused, and his gaze flicked over Aerith and Cloud in turn. "I am a busy man," he continued, "and I do not give out help freely, and _certainly_ not to those that don't deserve it."

Beside Cloud, Aerith thickly swallowed.

Folia cleared her throat. "I'll just… head to rehearsal," she murmured after a brief pause, and quietly slipped out without a word _._

Rhodea waited until the door gently closed behind her before continuing. "But because you are our sweet Ms. Folia's friends, and apparently have something of an _emergency –_ which I will determine for myself – I will listen to your story," he decided, and he daintily crossed his arms across his chest. "But please make it quick. I have a very important rehearsal to attend and have recently booked some unexpected guests that need to be tended to."

 _Unexpected guests,_ Cloud's mind repeated. _Does he mean Zack and the Turks?_

"Right, thank you," Aerith said in a rush, cutting off Cloud's inner monologue. "We appreciate it. So, two things really. First of all, I'm Aerith and this is Cloud, and Cloud's girlfriend was taken by Corneo." Cloud didn't even bother correcting her anymore; she would just ignore him anyway. "We _really_ have to save her, but to do that, we need your help to get into tonight's audition. We need your approval." She sucked in a breath, her cheeks rosy as she hurried to explain their second emergency. "And also, the next thing is that three men are staying in your, um, establishment-" she nearly tripped on the word, but saved herself at the last moment, "-except one is basically a prisoner. We need to save him, too."

"As quickly as possible," Cloud added, which had Aerith nodding.

Rhodea hummed at their hurried explanation. "I see that you two keep yourselves busy."

"Can you help us?" Cloud's tone edged desperation. "We'll do anything."

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the crackling incense and the distant violin. The latter's melody soared above the stage curtain and into the rafters high above, and Rhodea's silky voice accompanied it perfectly. "Unfortunately not," Rhodea said as his gaze slid over to Cloud. "You are not the first individuals to come running for help, and you will not be…"

But then his voice trailed off, and something like confusion flickered across his expression. Confusion… and something else.

"You," he stated, clearly addressing Cloud. "Take off your hood."

Cloud blanched. "Wh – What?" The worst-case scenario flickered through his mind; that Rhodea recognized him from the bounty, and then he would tell Corneo or the Turks, who would then tell Hojo, and then everything would –

But a hand on his arm snapped him back to the present, and he turned to see Aerith smiling at him. "It's okay," she said. "Really."

Cloud sucked in breath and, at her encouraging nod, slowly reached up and pulled back his hood. The room's dim lighting delicately brushed aside the shadows, and his luminous, sea-glass gaze flicked up to meet Rhodea's wide eyes. There was a fire burning in Cloud's expression – _but no,_ not at all a fire, but a storm. A storm that raged over black seas, dashed ships against salt-soaked cliffs, and drowned the world beneath its downpour. The sort of storm that broke anything and everything in its path.

Andrea Rhodea had never seen anything so terrifying… or so beautiful.

"Perfection," he murmured.

Cloud's expression pinched. "Excuse me?"

"Perhaps we can make a deal," Rhodea mused, completely ignoring Cloud as he looked the younger blond over. Cloud went pink in the face at the obvious attention, and he fidgeted in place as Rhodea turned back to Aerith. "You say that Don Corneo took something from you?"

"Some _one,_ " Aerith corrected. "A woman, and Cloud's girlfriend. She's auditioning to be Corneo's wife tonight, not of her own volition, and we want to save her."

"We _have_ to save her," Cloud interjected.

Rhodea nodded, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. As if something like this happened every other week. "And your second request?"

 _He didn't listen to us at all,_ Cloud thought with a frown, but dutifully replied, "We know that the Turks booked a room here, and another friend of ours is with them."

"But he doesn't want to be," Aerith cut in. "He's being held against his will, and we want to save him out, too. We _have_ to," she corrected, echoing Cloud's earlier sentiment. "We have to save them both."

Rhodea smoothed out his stubble. "I see. Well, I will happily assist you in dealing with Corneo," he decided with a small, almost hidden smirk. "Corneo has been a thorn in my side for quite some time now, and treats my honeygirls and boys… poorly." His expression darkened. "It would gladden me greatly to see him put in his place."

"We can do that," Aerith assured. "We'd happily do that, in fact."

Cloud wasn't entirely sure _how_ they would do that, exactly, but kept his mouth shut and admired Aerith's confidence.

"But as for your second issue," Rhodea continued, his tone more hesitant, "that is an entirely different matter. The red-haired man that accompanied them is a regular here, and he paid for a _very_ nice room – and one of our most expensive – for an indefinite amount of time. Assisting you in this matter could lead to a stunning loss of revenue.

"But," Rhodea mused before Aerith could get a word in, "perhaps we can kill two birds with one stone." He then gave Cloud a look, one that could have meant a wide variety of things, and it immediately gave Cloud a bad feeling.

"What do you mean?" Cloud asked, but then Rhodea arched an eyebrow and he was suddenly unsure if he wanted to know the answer.

"Well… to put it simply, you will need to make up for the lost income." Rhodea said this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Work off the debt, per say."

That sounded fair enough, and Cloud lifted his chin. "Just tell me what to do, and I'll do it. I'll do anything"

Aerith winced. "Cloud, maybe you should think about this for a second."

But Rhodea only smiled. "Anything, you say?"

"Anything," Cloud affirmed.

Aerith dropped her head in her hands.

Rhodea's smile only broadened. "Excellent," he said. "That's what I like to hear, Cloud. And as Ms. Folia has undoubtedly mentioned to you, we are performing a new dance tonight. Something… _exotic."_ His grin sharpened as he looked Cloud over once again. "Something _new_ and _fresh."_

Cloud only blinked as his fuzzy thoughts struggled to put two and two together. _Performing a new dance…_ His lips pursed. _Exotic? And new…_ Suddenly the world seemed to go deathly still around him. It was as time itself had frozen, and all he could do was blink dumbly ahead as his mind ground to a sickening, halting stop. _Wait, is he saying…_

"I don't dance," he stammered, suddenly wondering what _anything_ now meant. He had just assumed it would be, he didn't know, cleaning or lifting stuff or… something, but not _dancing._ "You don't want me dancing."

"I beg to differ," Rhodea grinned.

Aerith placed a solemn hand on his shoulder, though there was no mistaking the way she was fighting to hide her smile. "I wish you the best of luck up there."

Cloud shot her a scathing look, and while she lowered her arm, she was smiling outright now.

"You see, that's what they all say," Rhodea continued. "They tell me, _I cannot dance…_ but I will make a star of you yet," he murmured, brushing a hand against Cloud's cheek. Cloud froze, wide-eyed, unsure what to do or say. "Yes… a _star._ You will be my star, for true beauty is an expression of the heart. It is a thing without shame, to which notions of gender do not apply… and I will make you beautiful."

Cloud's brow pinched. "Excuse me?"

"Yes," Rhodea continued, as if he hadn't heard. Maybe he hadn't. "I will make you into a star indeed. Do not be afraid, Cloud."

"I'm not af-"

But Rhodea cut him off. "This is my proposition," he said as he took a step back, "one that you would be wise to accept. If you, Cloud, assist me in my production, then not only will I give you my recommendation to Corneo for the tonight's audition, but I will even help you rescue your friend from the Turks. I will not negotiate this."

"Deal," Aerith immediately replied, and outstretched her hand.

Cloud, though horrified, said and did nothing. He knew as well as she did that this was their best option right now. In fact, it was their _only_ option… and he did say that he would do _anything._

Now he had to make good of that promise.

Rhodea grinned and took Aerith's hand. "Deal," he said, and they shook on it while Cloud wanted to crawl in a hole. And when Rhodea turned fully to Cloud, he was practically _glowing_ with excitement as he continued,"We have struck an accord, and now _you_ will be coming with me."

Cloud's hands fidgeted inside of his jacket pocket. "I'm not sure if this is a good idea," he managed, unable to help himself. "I'll, um, I'll ruin your show. It won't be good."

"You will not," Rhodea easily and confidently replied. "If anything, you will only allow the performance to achieve its highest potential. And as for you, Miss Aerith," he added, glancing over his shoulder, "you are welcome to wait in my office, where it will be safe, while I assist in our Cloud's transformation. When we are ready, I will send one of my assistants for you."

" _Transformation_?" Cloud squeaked, as Aerith only grinned and said, "Thank you very much."

Rhodea's eyes flashed. "Wonderful. Now, Cloud, if you'll come with me..."

Cloud wanted to do anything but that, but if he wanted to save Tifa and Zack… well, it was time that he took one for the team. Complete this _transformation_ or whatever, and then _dance_ or something. No problem. After all, after all the shit he has gone through, this should be _easy._

Except, at that moment, he'd rather fight a hundred Nibel Dragons than stand on a stage in front of hundreds of people and… And _dance_ in front of them.

Cloud's cheeks burned. _When did this day go so wrong?_

"Cloud?" Rhodea called.

Cloud shakily exhaled. "C – Coming."

"You're going to do great," Aerith told him as he began to follow Rhodea.

"You're only saying that 'cause you're not the one performing," he muttered. "I hate this."

Aerith only laughed. "Good luck!"

Cloud swallowed his complaint and dutifully followed Rhodea out of the room. But there was just no ignoring the bad feeling boiling in the pit of his stomach, and he knew – beyond a measure of doubt – that he would _hate_ whatever was about to happen.

* * *

Aerith grinned and waved to Cloud as Andrea Rhodea led him out of the room. There was no mistaking Cloud's pensive expression… or the grumpy look he had given her before the door clicked shut behind him, which had her giggling.

Giggling, because there had also been _life_ flickering in his sea glass eyes, eyes that had seemed so hollow and tortured just a few short minutes before. Color once again warmed his cheeks. He even smiled at her – not once but _twice_ in fact – and though his smile and been brief, it had been _real_. Honest.

And in that moment, Aerith knew that he was going to be okay. That things may be difficult now, unfairly difficult in fact, but one day he would be able to overcome what had been done to him – what was _still_ happening to him, what he was reliving one small terror at a time.

Aerith's smile slipped, and her hand slowly lowered to her side.

Cloud had another episode.

It hadn't been the same as what she had seen back at the Loveless Plaza just a short day ago, when he could barely make out words and eventually couldn't even walk on his own. At that time, he had been helpless and terrified, unable to comprehend the world spinning confusingly around him and considering everything – from people to shadows to closing doors – a threat.

This episode wasn't nearly as bad. He had simply disappeared for a little while; he had been right beside her and yet, at the same time, had never been further away. She closed her eyes as the memory welled up within her, and then she could hear his knees crack against the concrete, could hear his choked gasps as his fingers clawed at his face, struggling to remove something that wasn't there. She had shaken his shoulder, had said his name as loudly as she had dared, and had pulled him behind the wall before Reno could notice. Yet still he had stammered. Still he had struggled, his muted cries driving nails into her heart, until he had snapped out of the nightmare all on his own.

And yet the moment Cloud realized that she was there, his first words were, _I'm fine_. He had repeated it over and over again as if _she_ was the one that needed comfort, as if _she_ had been the one on her knees, pale and trembling and gasping for air, helpless to do anything but relive some horror, and not him.

But what _really_ broke her heart – what had burned her eyes with unshed tears, and she couldn't stop herself from embracing him – was that he had _apologized_ to her once everything had ended. Worse, he meant every word of it. He wanted her to know just how sorry he was.

She was sorry, too. Just not in the way he thought, because while he was sorry for who he became, she was sorry for everything that had made him that way. Sorry about his hometown. Sorry for everything that had happened afterwards. She wished – wished with such a wild, futile desperation that it almost left her breathless – that none of the bad had ever happened. That both Zack and Cloud could have spent the past five years… well, _happy_. Happy and content and eager to live the life they wanted instead of what had been forced upon them, and as Cloud had trembled against her, she couldn't help but think:

_Does Zack still relive the nightmares, too?_

The thought ached within her and she clasped her hands together, so tightly that her knuckles paled and her nails dug crescents into her skin. The thought needled its way just behind her ribs, and like a bird trapped within her lungs, tore and clawed and fought its way out from between her bones. Her breath shuddered through her teeth. Her eyes squeezed shut.

She would never consider herself a hateful person, but she _hated_ Hojo for what he had done to Zack, had done to Cloud… and for what he had done to her and her mother. He had somehow managed to deeply hurt everyone she had ever loved. Everyone she had ever cared about.

_And there is nothing I can do about it._

She swallowed her humorless chuckle, and sat down on one of the plush cushions on the floor. She folded her legs beneath her and reclasped her hands on her lap, though her posture was now relaxed instead of rigid and tense. If anyone had looked into Rhodea's office right then, they would have thought that she looked demure. Maybe they would have guessed that she was thinking gentle thoughts. Thoughts about mountains, and lakes, and rivers. Poetry, perhaps. Maybe even rosy romance novels.

But instead, Aerith wasn't thinking about much at all. If anything, she was only just now realizing how lost she felt. How _trapped_ she felt. How she was fenced in by a fate that she had no say over, and like staring down a train on the tracks, was helpless to do anything but watch until it ran her over. She could count on one hand the number of times she had felt so brutally lost.

The first had been when her mother – her _true_ mother – had died at the train station, and she had been left in the care of a stranger.

The second had been when Zack stopped returning her calls and never responded to her letters, and she couldn't help but wonder if he had forgotten her.

This moment – this _situation_ – was the third. She didn't even know what she would call it. She wasn't even sure what moment had finally undone her. All she knew that there was a steady throbbing deep in her chest, a squirming ache that refused to go away, and she strangely felt like crying. She wasn't even sure whom she was crying for; maybe she wanted to cry for Cloud, for everything that had been done to him, the unfairness of it all. Maybe she wanted to cry for Zack because he was the one that had to carry the both of them through the horror of it all, alone across continents while undoubtedly afraid, and yet he still managed to smile at her in the end. Or maybe she wanted to cry for herself, because she was just a slum girl who had never seen the stars beyond Midgar's smog, yet she somehow had to save Zack from the Turks and help Cloud keep it together long enough to rescue Tifa from Wall Market's most infamous crime lord, and she had to do it all before sunset because that's when she promised her mom she'd be home.

Aerith choked on a laugh.

No; if she was going to cry, she was going to cry for all three of them, because Zack and Cloud deserved so much better than what they had been given. And as for her… well, all she really wanted was a happy ending. And if that meant saving Zack from the Turks, helping Cloud keep it together, and rescuing Tifa from the most powerful crime lord in Midgar – and do it all before sunset – then damn it all, that's just what she would do.

Having found something of a resolution, she impatiently wiped her smarting eyes. _Keep it together,_ she ordered herself. _How am I supposed to be a badass if I'm a mess?_ Yet her stern orders didn't work as well as she had hoped; that ache in her chest only twisted at her words, throbbing in a deep, senseless hurt that left her breath shuddering, and so she did what she always did to calm down.

She folded her hands together, bowed her head, and prayed.

But in this little prayer, she didn't say a word, didn't speak to the Planet, didn't ask for it to hear her plea. Instead, she simply listened to its song. Its voice, to anyone else an incoherent babble of tangled ancient words and phrases, was a melody, a steady hum that trembled within her and shook her to her core. She was powerless to stop it from sweeping her away.

She wasn't sure how long she sat like that, crumbled on the floor cushion with her head bowed and eyes closed to the world. She wasn't sure how long her hands remained clasped and her soul bare to the Planet, but when the door opened, her limbs had gone stiff and ached from staying in one position for too long. Yet the person who opened the door wasn't Cloud or Rhodea, as she had been expecting. Instead it was Folia, and she was wearing her full honeygirl costume – complete with the black-and-yellow striped stinger attached to her rear and iridescent wings that bounced with every excited step. Her cheeks were also flushed with exertion when she bounded up to her.

"You friend, Cloud," Folia managed to say in between breaths, "is _incredible_!"

Aerith blinked in surprise; out of everything Folia could have said, _that_ hadn't been one of them. It took some time to recollect her thoughts, but when it did…

"Cloud?" she repeated, just to make sure.

"Yeah," Folia nodded. "He's just… _wow._ He's such a quick learner, and really, just…" She shook her head, grinning. "Where did you _find_ someone like him?"

"Er, well, it's… kind of hard to explain," Aerith said honestly, and then quickly changed the subjects. "Your costume looks nice on you."

Folia blinked. "My cos… oh!" She glanced down at herself with a nervous chuckle. "Yeah, I guess you don't really see me wearing this too often, huh? I usually stick to button-ups and jeans at the orphanage."

"True, but I like it on you," Aerith told her. "I mean, it's definitely different than what you usually wear at the orphanage… but it suits you."

Folia returned her smile. "Thanks. I'm not really sure if I like the stinger, but I do…" Suddenly her eyes widened. "Wait, we need to stay on topic! Rhodea sent me here during our rehearsal break, because he wanted to tell you that he has a plan."

"A plan?"

"That's right," Folia replied seriously. "It's a little out there, but I think it's going to work." Sucking in breath, she continued, "So here's how it goes..."

* * *

Zack considered himself something of an expert on shitty inn rooms. He and Cloud had stayed at a few while they had been on the run, and they could only afford the absolute cheapest rooms any inn had to offer. That meant the walls were weirdly stained, the beds were thin, lumpy, and far too small, and there was little else by way of comfort. Not even a lukewarm cup of coffee was available when they crept out at some ungodly hour in the morning. That said, he didn't really mind at the time. He just enjoyed the fact that there was a roof over his head, and he wasn't constantly paranoid of monsters.

That said, all of Zack's impressive inn experiences had in no way prepared him for the suite that the Turks had rented. The walls were inlayed with black marble instead of cheap wallpaper, the red carpet was thick and soft instead of thin and stained, and expensive leather couches were pressed against the walls. As for the bed itself, it was far larger than any bed Zack had ever seen. In fact, the circular mattress absolutely dominated the rather large room, and stacked on top of the mattress were heaps of blankets and pillows of all different sizes and shapes.

While pointedly ignoring why the bed was so large, a thought that had him blushing, he realized two things. The first was that there were no clocks in the room, and so there was no way to tell how much time had passed. The second was that there were no windows, not even a vent that he could squeeze through, and that meant the only way in or out was through the door that Rude now guarded.

Which, by process of elimination, meant that was trapped. Trapped with no way out, just like he had in the lab, and it took more effort than he liked to keep from panicking, to keep his breathing steady and even, to keep from shooting to his feet and forcing his way out of the door by any means necessary. It took all of his self control to simply… sit on the edge of the bed and stare at the floor. His foot tapped the plush carpet in a rapid staccato. His hands were clasped tightly on his lap. Anxiety shifted beneath his skin like a living, breathing thing, yet he dared not move, dared not even _look_ at the door, because he didn't want Reno or Rude to be more alert than they already were. No – better to bide his time, wait until they were at their most lax and stopped paying as close attention, and _then_ he would escape. Just like he did in the lab.

His breath hitched in his throat, but he was able to hide it with a brief cough. The more he thought about his predicament, the more uneasy he became. He wasn't sure _why_ Reno and Rude were treating him like some sort of prisoner. He wasn't sure why they kept dodging his questions, why they kept checking their phones, or why they gave him pitying looks – like they knew something that he didn't, like they felt _sorry_ for him.

This sucked.

"You seem tense," Reno told him from the couch, interrupting Zack's thoughts.

That wasn't the first time that Reno had said that, and Zack smiled thinly in response – all sharp edges and no warmth. "Just wondering why I'm here," he said, again. "This whole thing is kind of weird."

Rude leaned against the wall. "Tseng's orders."

"You told me that already," Zack pointed out. "So… what? We're just going to sit here forever?"

Reno loudly sighed. "We better not," he grumbled before leaning back on the couch. Tucking his hands behind his head, he continued, "And believe me, I'd tell you more if I could. But unfortunately, it's all _confidential._ "

"Can't tell me because I'm a contractor?" Zack asked, his grin now jagged and brittle. "Or because I'm your _prisoner?_ "

There was a pause, and then Reno said, "I wouldn't go that far." He glanced at him from the couch. "You're not a prisoner."

"Yeah?" Zack shot him a scathing look. "Because it sure as hell feels like I am."

Rude crossed his arms over his chest. "We don't like this any more than you do, but we all just have to deal with it for now."

 _"Deal with it..._ " Reno echoed, then loudly huffed his annoyance. "Hell, don't get me wrong, Fair. This sucks, I get it. You think I want to be here babysitting your sorry ass while we're at the _Honeybee Inn,_ of all places? Shiva's tits, I could be visiting the honeygirls right now, but instead I have to stare at your ugly face."

"Well, sorry for the _inconvenience_."

There was no mistaking the sarcasm in Zack's tone… or the subtle threat buried in his words.

Reno's gaze narrowed and he slowly sat upright. "Watch it, Fair." His hands slid down to his electric baton, which was strapped to his thigh with leather bands. "Let's not do anything we'll regret."

 _Regret._ The word sparked something in Zack, flickered beneath his skin like fire, and yet simultaneously chilled him to the bone. _Regret._ His mind snagged on the word, and a jumble of images came with it; every little thing that he wished he could change, every small action that he wished he could have done different.

He regretted not escaping from the lab sooner.

He regretted giving Cloud the order to take out Sephiroth, to finish a job not even a SOLDIER First Class could accomplish.

He regretted not spending more time with Aerith while he had the chance, and he could only hope that he could make up for some of that lost time now that they were together.

He regretted not listening to Angeal more, for not taking his lessons as seriously as he should have until it was too late, and he was gone.

He regretted not writing to his parents more when he had joined Shinra.

Every small memory was burying him, and the kinder the memory, the more it weighed. Soon he was buried beneath it all, buried beneath a weight he could never hope to carry by himself. Because how could he? He had learned so many times, and in so many different ways, that his shoulders weren't as broad and his hands weren't as big as he had thought they had been. He couldn't be a hero; he hadn't saved a single person. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he had saved himself.

Zack dryly chuckled, humorless and bitter. "Regret, huh?" he murmured, and he slowly stood upright. Both Rude and Reno pushed themselves to their feet, a look of unease shared between them both. But Zack didn't care. He didn't care because for the first time in he didn't even know _how_ long, he didn't have to look after anyone anymore. There was no one to take care of besides himself. There was no mission target that he had to protect. He didn't even have to keep an eye on Cloud, because Cloud wasn't here – he was awake, alert, safely in the care of Aerith, hanging out with the girl he had gushed about back in his infantry now.

And that meant that right now, all that existed was Zack, Reno, Rude, and the door outside.

A strange chill slid in place within him, an icy hardness that had not been there before. "Don't talk to me about _regret,"_ he murmured, far more quietly than before, and his gaze flicked to his Buster Sword. It leaned against the bed not five steps to his right, and he knew that he could cross that distance in less than half a second.

 _But would that be enough time?_ he wondered. Reno and Rude were trained Turks, not to mention shockingly quick, and his mind spun out the calculations. Eventually he decided that _yes,_ half a second would be enough time, but it would be cutting it close. He was also outnumbered, but at least both Turks kept to close-range weapons, which was the fighting style he was most familiar with. There was also the matter of his still-healing bullet wounds, but he reassured himself with the fact that he hadn't been at his best when he had escaped the lab either, yet escape he did, and he did it while carrying someone else too. He crossed two continents while weakened from four long years spent in glass jars. Compared to that, Reno and Rude were _nothing._

Having reached a decision, he leaned forward so that most of his weight had shifted to the balls of his feet. His knees bent, and leather strained. Tension rested heavily on the room as Reno's fingertips brushed against his baton, and Rude slowly lowered his center of gravity, hands lifted in an offensive stance.

The ice that had settled inside Zack chilled even further, and his eyes narrowed as frost pushed through his veins. In three seconds, he would grab his Buster Sword and sprint for the door.

Reno undid the first clasp, and the snap rang loudly in the room.

_Two seconds._

Leather hissed as Rude adjusted his gloves into a more comfortable position. Zack muscles went taunt as he made tiny adjustments to his feet, just to keep himself perfectly balanced.

_One..._

… but then, without warning, the door burst open.

Zack cursed as his nerves, already strung tight to the point of breaking, just about snapped.

Reno also cursed, albeit much more loudly. "Didn't you see the _Do Not Disturb_ sign?" he shouted at the door, yet the words died in his throat as a honeygirl and a honeyboy pranced into the room. Both were in full uniform; the honeygirl's dark curls waterfalled between her iridescent wings and forked at her striped stinger, while the honeyboy's sharp suit cut his lithe form into a striking figure.

It was only the ridiculousness of the honeygirl's costume that kept Zack from sprinting out the door. That, and the fact that they closed it right after them and then Rude moved to block it.

"Hi hi!" the honeygirl sang as she stepped into the room. The honeyboy only inclined his top hat, his glossed lips curved into a sharp smirk.

"This room wasn't to be disturbed," Rude said, now leaning against the doorway. Zack made an impatient noise and sat back down on the bed, fuming.

The honeygirl spun towards Rude, making a show of how her stinger bobbed with the movement. "But today is your lucky day!"

"We are currently hosting a surprise performance in the theater," the honeyboy added, his voice a low purr. "And as you three are VIP guests, we have saved the very best seat for you… with Andrea Rhodea's compliments, of course."

Rude's brows furrowed. "I don't see how -"

"The _best seat?_ " Reno interrupted, earning him a dark look from Rude – one that went completely unnoticed. "With _Andrea Rhodea's compliments_?"

"That's right!" The honeygirl turned to him with a winning smile. "Isn't that incredible? _And_ did I mention that it's a once-in-a-lifetime, never-before-seen show featuring our most _recent_ honeygirl?"

Reno clutched his chest. "Rhodea hired a new honeygirl?"

"That's right," the honeyboy replied. "Tonight is her debut performance, and she is _very_ talented. So talented, in fact, that she will be performing with Andrea Rhodea himself."

"No way." Reno, having apparently forgotten the fight that had been about to break out, turned to both Rude and Zack with wide eyes. "I have to go. I'm going."

Rude only looked at Reno in disappointment. "You can't go – you're working. And besides," he added with a sniff, "you go to these _performances_ often enough."

"It's _theater!_ " Reno protested. "I'm supporting their _artistic expression!_ "

"Why don't you all come along, then?" the honeygirl asked. She batted her long eyelashes at Reno as she did so, and he audibly swallowed. "The more the merrier, right?"

" _No,_ " Rude stated. He shot Reno and long look and repeated, "We're _working_."

"What's the harm?" Reno shot right back. "I can go, and you can watch Fair."

While Zack didn't appreciate being treated like a child needing to be watched, and he was still trying to get his emotions back under control, he _did_ see a ray of hope in an otherwise bleak situation. If Reno went to the show, then that would leave him alone with Rude… and that would certainly improve his odds of escaping, at any rate.

"Why don't you all go, if your friend needs a bodyguard?" the honeyboy offered. "You can guard him together during the show?"

Zack immediately wanted to tell the honeyboy to shut up, that they were _not_ his bodyguards and were, in fact, his prison wardens, but kept his mouth shut. They didn't need to get involved in this mess. Escaping was his responsibility; he didn't want to push that burden on another, especially just an innocent bystander trying to make a living.

"That's a good idea," Reno agreed. "Fair can sit between us, and we can both watch him." Rude loudly huffed, which had Reno bristling. "Partner this is a _once-in-a-lifetime_ experience! No one has _ever_ seen this show before! And do you know how often Rhodea hires new dancers? _Never!_ " But when Rude didn't reply, only lifted his eyebrows is an exasperated expression, Reno scowled and added, "This is why people think you're boring, you know."

Rude blinked. "I'm not boring."

"You _are_ boring," Reno shot back. "You don't take risks, you do _everything_ exactly as ordered, and you have like, no hobbies! Buddy, you know I care about you and would never do anything to purposefully offend you, but I gotta say it: You're boring as hell. I mean," he added at Rude's offended huff, "have you _ever_ been to a Honeybee Inn show before?"

"No, but I don't see how -"

Reno loudly shushed him. "No buts! That settles it. You, my friend, will be boring no longer. It's time to live a little. And as for _you,"_ he added, whirling to Zack, "consider this a _gift._ You're _welcome."_

Zack nearly told Reno to fuck off, but he held his tongue. He knew his part. He would be the good little prisoner, do exactly what he was told, and the moment they dropped their guard… then he'd run for it. He'd be gone faster than they could blink. Then he'd find Aerith, grab Cloud, and figure out how to leave Midgar for good. He didn't like living in the city much anyway.

"Fine," Zack finally said, as civilly as he could manage. "I'll go. But don't expect me to like it."

Reno looked positively thrilled. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Zack, after reminding himself that this was his best chance to escape, resolutely allowed himself to be dragged along. Reno and Rude made sure he walked between them, and their hands never strayed far from their weapons. Their eyes flicked to every well-dressed guest, every overly loud laugh, every excited titter about the show, the new honeygirl, the upcoming performance. Guests in flashy clothing choked the main entrance hall and, for a moment, Zack thought that he might be able to make a break for it…

… but then he remembered that his sword and his box of letters was still sitting in their room, and he immediately pushed the thought away. He couldn't leave without them. He _wouldn't._

_Shit._

He had forgotten about that.

The thought hardened something within him, and he shoved his hands into his pockets as Reno pushed the theater doors open. The theater was just as grand as Zack had been expecting. Clusters of booths, all hexagonal to continue the honeybee theme, were carefully arranged to face the stage. Chilled drinks sweated against the table. Honeygirls and boys fluttered from cluster to cluster, trays delicately balanced on one hand while they flashed smiles at the patrons. If he turned his gaze upward, he would have noticed teardrop lights hanging from the ceiling like dripping honey.

Their honeygirl and honeyboy expertly guided the three of them to the booth, one nestled directly in front of the stage, that had been marked with a golden _reserved_ sign. Reno made a noise of appreciation when he noticed the chilled drinks already in place, as well as a plate of hors d'oeuvres – an assortment of sashimi with various dipping sauces – resting in the center of the table.

"It is Andrea Rhodea's thanks for your generous patronage of our establishment," the honeygirl murmured as they slid into the booth. The dim theater lights shimmered against her golden eyeshadow as she batted her eyes at them. "I hope you'll enjoy it."

Rude made an uncomfortable noise in the back of his throat, and he kept his gaze firmly on the table.

"This is _very_ nice," Reno replied. He lounged in the booth like a content cat, with his arms draped against the seat's back and legs crossed at the knee. "I'll have to thank Rhodea personally."

Zack only sat silently between Reno and Rude, his gaze narrowing at the champagne flute bubbling in front of him. Condensation beaded its delicate glass and cried down its elegant curves. _This is bribery,_ he decided, and raised his gaze to the honeyboy setting out the cutlery. The honeyboy, seeing Zack's look, simply winked before placing the napkins and departing.

Zack's scowl deepened as he watched the honeyboy walk away. _Am I paranoid,_ he thought, _or did that wink mean something?_

"Now you three just sit tight until Andrea takes the stage," the honeygirl continued, leaning provocatively over the table to refill Reno's champagne, which he had already downed. Zack couldn't help but notice that she had locked her green eyes with his, and her expression was strangely serious. Far too serious for someone wearing a bee suit. "I would _hate_ if you missed any part of the show."

"So would I," Reno replied, clearly appreciating the view.

"And especially get a good look at the new honeygirl," the honeyboy added, having returned with a new plate of appetizers – this time, it was little pastries filled with ham, cheese, and spinach. Setting the hot dish in front of them, and keeping his gaze firmly on Zack, he continued, "She is surprising in more ways than one."

Zack arched an eyebrow – _Surprising in more ways than one? –_ but before he could ask, the honeyboy told them to enjoy the show and then walked away, the v-shaped tail of his coat swaying with every step. Zack watched him leave, his lips pursed in a frown.

 _The hell was that about?_ he wondered, but before he could think about the honeyboy and girl's strange behavior more, the lights suddenly went dim and the entire audience hushed with it. The sound of glasses clinking against each other faded. Giggles and hurried conversations faded into a tense, expectant silence.

"It's starting," Reno hissed beside him. His gaze was pinned to the stage, and he was practically buzzing with excitement. Rude told him to shut up.

A woman's voice suddenly rose up from somewhere in the crowd. The melody was sweet and sultry, and yet there was an edge that demanded the audience's absolute attention. And as the song flitted from note to note, climbing higher and higher, quiet and captivating all at once, the lights slowly brightened with it. Soon the dancer's lithe forms, hidden by the stage's shadows, were caressed by golden light. Their haloed silhouettes teased the crowd as they snapped in rhythm with the song's hard beat.

Zack, who had never been to anything quite like this before, could only stare in shock. He didn't know _what_ to make of all of this. He was so enthralled, in fact, that he had nearly forgotten about his predicament, and he also nearly missed the giant flower slowly rising up from the floor behind the first row of dancers. Its violet petals shimmered beneath the lights. All of the dancers moved around it in tight movements, and when the woman's voice clawed its way into a crescendo… Fireworks burst out from behind the stage in a sudden flash of sparks and light, drawing out _oohs_ and _ahhs_ from the crowd. Sparkling confetti rained from the ceiling. The lights flared to life as the dancers began spinning in full force, their bodies twisting and bending in impossible directions. The honeygirls draped themselves across the honeyboys, and the honeyboys bent them into elegant curves before throwing them into the air, a graceful toss that made them look like they really could fly with their plastic wings.

"Hot damn," Reno murmured beside him.

Zack didn't reply; he didn't really know what to say. All he could do was stare, wide-eyed, as the song throbbed through the theater and the dancers throbbed with it. The now fully-bloomed flower was replaced by another, this one stained gold and glittering beneath the lights. At this one point all the dancers congregated again, their bodies twisting around each other as if they were a single being as the golden flower suddenly opened with another burst of fireworks. Sparks sprayed into the air. Shimmering confetti rained onto the stage and into the audience. Holographic honeygirls danced and twirled above the audience like golden fairies, their draping fabrics and iridescent wings bouncing with every turn and pirouette.

And there – standing in the center of the blooming flower – were two figures locked in a tight embrace. One was clearly Andrea Rhodea; though Zack had never seen there man before, there was absolutely no mistaking it. Rhodea's clothes were so well fitted that it left very little to the imagination, and the thin straps closing the front of his suit were the only thing preventing the daring outfit from falling off. His collar was lined with black fur, tassels dangled from the sleeves, and his shoes glimmered beneath the golden lighting.

As for his partner…

 _That must be the new honeygirl,_ Zack realized, just as Reno excitedly leaned forward and murmured, "That's her." Rude only huffed, clearly unimpressed.

While Zack was initially surprised that she wasn't wearing the familiar honeygirl garb, he quickly realized that there was just something... _familiar_ about her, something that he just couldn't put his finger on. Maybe it was how her golden hair was messy and mused just as Cloud's was, except hers was much longer and done into twin braids tied with neat little bows. Or maybe it was her natural slenderness; Cloud was very thin as well now, so Zack instinctively noticed the hollows of her cheeks, the thinness of her wrists, the way the corset didn't need to be pulled tightly to show off her small waist. How the navy blue dress flared generously at her hips and swallowed the rest of her up. Or maybe it was the expression she wore, how her glossy lips were pursed in a scowl and her luminous eyes were narrowed-

Zack's eyes flew wide. Her eyes were _luminous?_

And just like that, it all pieced together.

_Oh my god._

He leaned back in the booth, almost feeling a bit lightheaded.

_Don't tell me…_

He pressed a hand to his forehead, and if it wasn't for the SOLDIER training drilled into him, he just might have passed out.

_Oh my god, that's Cloud._

"Damn, they picked a good one," Reno murmured beside him, his tone heavy with awe. "Think I can get her number?"

Rude huffed, his arms crossed over his chest as he sulked. "Reno, please shut up."

But Zack hardly heard them. His heart had stopped dead in his chest and his mind was spinning, his thoughts tumbling within his skull like laundry. Clearly Reno or Rude didn't recognize Cloud, which was a small blessing. But how could they? Look at what he was _wearing._ Zack couldn't quite believe it, to be honest, and leaned back into the booth while shaking his head. This was… This had to be some sort of fever dream, just a strange hallucination. That wasn't Cloud. It _couldn't_ be. He was safe in Sector Seven with Aerith and Tifa so he _couldn't_ be here, not in Wall Market, and _especially_ not performing in the _Honeybee Inn_ of all places. That was just _impossible._

And yet there was no mistaking Cloud's all-too familiar glower when Rhodea helped him off the flower – helped him, because he was wearing three inch heels and was a bit wobbly in them, though he did regain his balance fairly quickly. Zack covered his face with his hand as he sank into the booth, his fingers splayed so that he could peek between them. Second hand embarrassment burned through him.

_What the hell, Cloud._

_Why are you -_

Reno, noticing Zack's obvious discomfort, smirked. "You like her too, huh?"

"Get bent," was Zack's immediate reply.

Reno snorted a laugh, but dutifully returned his attention to the stage.

There was quite a bit to look at, the obvious excluded. The lights had begun to dum, and all of the dancers suddenly converged. Iridescent wings shimmered beneath the stage lights as they clustered together. The long, v-shaped tails of the suits flared dramatically as they spun. The woman's lilting voice shone above them all as three platforms rose in the back, but Zack didn't notice any of it. His could only watch, stunned speechless, as Rhodea and Cloud moved closer even as the rest of the dancers pranced off the stage.

Rhodea's lips suddenly moved, and it was thanks to Zack's lip-reading training that he was able to decipher it: _"Think you can follow my lead?"_

A blush stained Cloud's high cheekbones. _"I hate you so much right now._ "

Zack openly gaped, but Rhodea didn't seem to mind; with a breathy laugh, he effortlessly spun Cloud across the stage, and the spotlight followed Cloud as he moved to mirror Rhodea. His blue dress flared around his legs, showing off the lacy black tights hugging his ankles as he took his place. The heels he wore clicked against the stage. His black bow bobbed in his hair, though it was nearly buried in the natural yet unruly spikes that had clearly resisted the use of hairspray.

Zack, seeing where this was going, drained the rest of his champaign just as Rhodea and Cloud began to dance to the hard beat of the music. Their movements mirrored one another; Rhodea led, and Cloud followed. Rhodea, however, had far move smoother movements, and his dance was graceful, elegant while still maintaining a rugged sort of sureness. Cloud, on the other hand, was more jerky. Zack could see the mako glow in his eyes flare with panic when he missed his cue, and yet not one person seemed to notice. The audience roared when he nailed one of the moves, and his flowing dress and admittedly gorgeous makeup easily hid any other perceived flaws.

All Zack could think was, _Holy shit._ His mind could not accept what his eyes were seeing. It was too out there, too surreal, and he couldn't help but wonder that this _was_ a hallucination. _Or maybe Cloud was the one hallucinating?_ he wondered, partly in amusement and partly in acute second-hand embarrassment. _What the hell did they teach him in the infantry?_

Zack wasn't sure how long Rhodea and Cloud mirrored each other, or how long they followed each other's movements. The lights stained their shifting bodies violet as they complimented one another, their synchronized movements nearly hypnotic – mesmerizing, in fact.

But then the lights dimmed further. Blue stained the stage as the music shifted from lighthearted jazz to something harder, more robotic and techno, and the dance shifted with it. No longer did it flow from Rhodea to Cloud, or Cloud to Rhodea. No longer did one lead the other through the delicate poses and postures, but their mirrored movements sharp yet sensual, brutal yet elegant, practiced and coordinated and dangerous. Some whistled at Cloud's steely glare. Rhodea winked at the crowd.

Zack drained Rude's untouched glass of champaign too, earning himself a harsh scowl in the process. He didn't think he could even look at Cloud the same way again. Was this some sort of side job? A private hobby? Did Cloud… Did Cloud _like_ dancing? Zack never would have guessed it, but…

… but then a hand suddenly tapped him on the shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts. To his surprise a _honeygirl_ was standing over him, one with coily hair tied back in a tight bun and yellow glasses resting on her delicate nose.

"Your turn, pretty boy," she purred as she hauled him to his feet.

Zack had thought that nothing would surprise him anymore, and yet her declaration had him staring dumbly. "My turn?"

Rude was on his feet in an instant. "He's with us," he said darkly, and made a move to block Zack's escape. "He's _staying_ with us."

But out of nowhere, a honeyboy approached and placed a firm hand on his chest. "Don't worry," the honeyboy murmured as he pushed Rude back down in the booth. Climbing beside him, he added in a low voice, " _I'll_ keep you company."

Rude flushed scarlet, and Reno rolled his eyes at his partner before standing up. "Look, little lady, don't mean any disrespect but..." He flashed her what Zack assumed was a winning smile, but truth be told, it looked a little creepy. "See, we're in charge of him. Bodyguards, and all of that."

To the honeygirl's credit, she only grinned and replied, "Right now you're not."

"What?" Reno looked taken aback for a moment, but he quickly recovered. "Now wait just a-"

Two honeygirls suddenly swarmed him, and with hands on his shoulders, forced him back down in the booth. "But if you go with her, you won't be able to stay with us," one tittered, while the other ran a hand down his arm and said something about his muscles. "Wouldn't you rather keep us company?"

"Wait, that's not -"

But Zack didn't hear the rest though, because then the glasses-wearing honeygirl was pulling him through a side door. He could feel the music tremble through his boots as they hurried behind the stage. The quick beat rattled through him, and he tried to imagine Cloud dancing to _this_ particular song in drag… but couldn't. Not even his imagination could create a scene like that.

"You're not going to make me dance on stage, are you?" Zack asked, albeit nervously. "Because I'm going to tell you right now, you're going to be disappointed."

The honeygirl chuckled. "That wasn't the plan, don't worry. My name is Folia – I'm a friend of Aerith's. She and her friend mentioned that you needed help."

 _That_ declaration had Zack blinking, and he brilliantly said, "Huh?"

"Aerith and her friend Cloud came here to find you," Folia explained as they quickly turned the corner. They passed a costume room to their left, and to their right appeared to be some sort of makeup room. "They wanted to save you from the Turks."

Zack quickly connected the dots, and after a pause, he said, "And don't tell me… Does that have something to do with why Cloud'son that stage right now?" That _did_ make far more sense that Cloud moonlighting has a Honeybee Inn dancer…

Folia giggled. "Yes – the Turks payed a lot for the room you were in, so Rhodea wanted some form of payment for it. But _none_ of us imagined that Cloud would actually agree to it! He seemed so quiet, and shy… even Aerith was surprised," she mused.

" _I'm_ surprised," Zack muttered his breath, but now this was making more sense. At least there was some sort of rational reason to all of this, but there was one thing he didn't quite understand. "So why the dance?" he asked.

"Because Rhodea only gives his approval to clients that can move," Folia replied simply, which had Zack's eyebrows raising. "And Cloud needed to earn his approval."

Zack frowned. "Needed his approval for _what?_ " he asked, but then then the door opened, and he was suddenly enveloped in a tight hug.

"Zack!" Aerith cried into his chest, and Zack instinctively folded his arms around her. "Oh thank god, you're not hurt." Glancing around him, she told Folia, "Thank you. Really – I mean it."

Folia curtly nodded. "It's no trouble," she insisted, and then turning to Zack, added, "I need to hurry back to the show, but some of the others are already grabbing your things from the room. They should be here any second."

"And Cloud?" Zack asked, holding Aerith tight against him.

"Rhodea will escort him here the moment the show is done." Folia adjusted the straps of her wings before pushing her glasses higher up on her nose. "They just have one more dance, so a few more minutes tops."

"Do you want us to stay here until it's done?" Aerith asked.

Folia nodded. "Yes, please. This place is the most secure in the entire Honeybee Inn, and not even the Turks would dare enter without explicit permission from Andrea Rhodea. First off, they would need a warrant, and that is tricky to come by in Wall Market."

Aerith frowned at that. "I don't think they care about warrants. To be honest, I don't think they care about anything other than their mission."

"Maybe," Folia said with a shrug, "but either way, don't leave. Rhodea will be back soon with Cloud."

With that she turned to leave, but before she closed the door completely, Zack said, "Thank you." His arms tightened around Aerith, and she looked up to smile at him. "Really."

Folia offered him a brief smile, then ducked her head and locked the door behind her.

The moment the door had closed, Zack turned to Aerith and said, "What the hell did I just see out there?"

Aerith giggled. "You first," she told him, but then her tone grew more serious as she continued, "What happened? How did you end up with the Turks? I – I was worried sick, you know."

Zack offered her a wane smile. "Everything went well until I grabbed my sword. I ran into Cissnei by the elevator, another Turk if you haven't met her yet, and she told me that… that the Turks weren't safe anymore. And that..."

"That?" Aerith gently prompted.

He exhaled, and slowly opened his eyes. "That Hojo is looking for Cloud." When Aerith didn't look nearly as surprised as he had been expecting, he thickly swallowed and continued, "Our conversation was interrupted by Reno and Rude, who took me to Wall Market on Tseng's orders. I've been trying to figure out a way to get away and meet you and Cloud, but I didn't think of anything, obviously," he added with a bitter huff of laughter. "Thanks for saving me, by the way. I don't think I'll ever recover, though."

Aerith laughed. "Thank Cloud," she told him. "He's the one that's dancing."

 _And about that…_ "How the _hell_ did that happen?" Zack leaned away from her, eyebrow arched in question. "Did you drug him?"

"What! Of course not. He did all of that willingly. And he practiced really hard, too! Folia told me that he's a really quick learner."

"But like, how did that even _happen?_ " Zack asked, shaking his head. "He was wearing a _dress,_ Aerith. And like, not a little summer dress or whatever, but a full on _ball gown._ Dancing!" Gods above, he'd probably never forget it now. "And like, how did you guys even _get_ here? What's going on?"

At that, Aerith began fidgeting her hands together. "Well, it's kind of a long story," she said after a pause. "To make a very long story short, Tifa is auditioning to be Corneo's wife -"

 _"Corneo,"_ Zack repeated, aghast. He knew Corneo – everyone in Shinra did, really. The infamous crime lord of Wall Market, and the one person you didn't want to cross because not even Shinra could save you then. Corneo basically _owned_ Wall Market. "You don't mean _Don_ Corneo, do you?"

Aerith solemnly nodded. "And the only reason she's doing that is because there's a bounty on Cloud's head, and she went to get more information." Zack visibly paled; this was new information to him. Aerith continued before he could comment, "Cloud and I came to save her, but we were turned away – apparently, only people with the Trio's approval can enter the mansion and audition. And Rhodea is one of the people that can give approvals."

"A bounty?"

"We're getting information now," Aerith told him. "Don't worry; we're taking care of it."

Zack slowly exhaled. "Too late," he said matter-of-factly, but did his best to move on. "So Cloud is out there dancing his heart out in drag," he slowly summarized, "because Rhodea needed payment for saving me from the Turks, but _also_ so he can win Rhodea's approval and audition to Corneo to save Tifa. Who is trying to get more information on this bounty of Cloud's head."

"That's the gist of it," Aerith told him. "You catch on quick!"

But Zack wasn't remotely pleased by that; in fact, he simply dropped his head in his hands and groaned. "Aerith..."

"It's not a bad plan," she immediately said. "It's the only way to save Tifa – and _you,_ for that matter!"

Zack lowered his hands from his face. "It's dangerous!" he said, trying to keep his voice from raising. Yet raise it did. " _Hojo_ is after him! _Hojo!_ The same guy that imprisoned us for years, the same asshole that did… that did _things_ to him! I can't just… I can't," he said simply, giving up all other explanation. "This can't happen. There's no way."

"Zack, this means a lot to Cloud." Aerith placed a gentle hand on his arm; he didn't pull away from the touch. "He was beside himself when he found out Tifa was in danger, and he would do _anything_ to save her. At least now he's disguised, right? And it's an _amazing_ disguise, too. I bet you didn't even recognize him."

"Of course I recognized him," Zack scoffed.

"But did the Turks?"

"Well, no… but that's beside the point."

"You're right," Aerith said, surprising him with her agreement, but then she continued, "Because the point is that Cloud isn't well but he is trying his best to keep it together to save the people he cares about the most. Like _some_ people I know," she added, which had Zack frowning at her obvious implication. "This is a _good plan,_ Zack. And even more importantly, Cloud feels _useful_ now _._ He feels _normal,_ like he isn't someone that needs to be taken care of."

"Cloud _is_ normal," Zack said immediately; in fact, he was offended that Aerith would ever suggest anything otherwise. "Sure, he's recovering from mako poisoning, but there's _nothing_ wrong with him."

"Of course there's not," she told him gently. "But that's not what I meant. Cloud isstill recovering… and he might have had a bit of a breakdown earlier," she added after a pause, which had Zack going still, "but now he's doing much better now, and I think it's because no one is hovering over him like a worried mother. I think the best thing for him right now is for everyone to treat him _normally_ , instead of someone that needs to be looked after like a child."

Zack scowled. "I treat him normally."

"You also hover," Aerith told him gently. "Which I get. Really – I understand why, and I think Cloud _does_ need some extra watching. It would be irresponsible to forget that he is still recovering, and isn't at his best right now. But if he's going to get better, he can't be constantly reminded that he's unwell. Okay?"

Zack watched her for a moment as if she was hiding something, but then he realized what he was doing and huffed a brief laugh. "Yeah," he said after a pause. He ran an impatient hand through his hair, uncaring if he tore or pulled at any knots. "Yeah, okay. That makes sense."

"So when he comes off the stage, can you treat him normally?" Aerith asked. "Like, don't ask him if he's okay or anything. Just… comment on his dress."

Zack snorted. "Easily done."

"Thanks, Zack." Aerith placed a hand on his arm with a faint smile, and his gaze dropped down to it. "I know it's tough, but things will be okay."

Slowly, gently, he placed a hand over her own. "Sorry," he added in a low murmur. "Today… hasn't been easy."

"I know," Aerith replied, her own voice just as quiet. "But we're here for you now. Both me _and_ Cloud, okay? We'll figure things out."

Zack's eyes pricked, and he ducked his head to hide it. "Thank you," he said, a little hoarsely. "For being here."

Aerith lifted his hand to her lips and brushed the faintest of kisses across his knuckles. "Of course, Zack," she murmured against his skin. "Of course."

Zack thickly swallowed, and was just about to reply when the doors suddenly swung open. He lifted his head just in time to see two honeyboys dragging his Buster Sword into the room, far more easily than he had been expecting, as well as another honeygirl bringing in a small wooden box. "Special deliveries," the honeygirl grinned as they set his stuff on the ground, and then with brief goodbyes and thank yous, they once again disappeared out the door as quickly as they had come…

… just in time to be replaced by Andrea Rhodea and Cloud. Rhodea looked just as flawless as ever; not even his cheeks were flushed with exertion as he strode into the room, his suit flaring dramatically with every sashaying step. On the other hand, spots of color stained Cloud's high cheekbones and his dress was slightly rumpled, though nothing that a quick smoothing couldn't fix. His hair accessories stayed perfectly in place, and though the hairspray had completely worn off, the rest of his make up looked untouched.

The moment Cloud noticed Zack and Aerith, he went deathly still before going beat red. Even his ears burned a bright scarlet.

Zack heard Aerith's order to ' _Act Natural'_ echo in his skull, and yet shooting Cloud a wild grin came effortlessly. " _Dude!"_

Cloud's eyes widened, and his eyes seemed even larger due to the dark mascara thickening his lashes, the sharp eyeliner, the gleaming eyeshadow. "Please don't," he practically hissed. Now that Zack could see him up close, he could really see just how much Cloud didn't even _look_ like Cloud; not really, not with all of that makeup on. Hell, he looked _slim_ in that corset instead of borderline painfully thin. The makeup also added color to his cheeks, taking out their pallor, and made him look… delicate. Maybe even a little fragile.

But then Zack looked back at Cloud's eyes, at the barely concealed rage and embarrassment there, and the _fragile_ image shattered immediately.

Zack's lips twitched into a smile. " _Very_ cute," he grinned as he looked Cloud over, much to Cloud's mortification. "This could be a new look for you, Spikey."

"Asshole," Cloud bit out.

But then to Cloud's surprise, Zack suddenly ruffled his hair; gently, as not to ruin the bow, but a ruffle all the same. "Aerith told me that you did all of that for me," he said, his grin a bit softer. "Thanks, buddy."

Cloud scowled, still beat red, but not nearly as embarrassed. "See if I ever do it for your sorry ass again," he muttered as he waved Zack's hand away. "And not another _word_ about the dress."

Zack only laughed, and completely missed Aerith's misty-eyed expression as she watched the two boys.

"As much as I hate to interrupt this little reunion," Rhodea said, dragging them all back to the present, "may I remind all of you that the Turks are still watching the show, and will begin growing suspicious when your dark-haired friend does not take the stage." The room immediately sobered at the reminder. "Here," Rhodea continued, handing a letter to Aerith. "This is a recommendation for Madam M, a masseuse near here. She is the third member of the Trio, and you will need her recommendation as well."

Cloud's lips pursed in annoyance, but with the amount of lipstick and gloss he was wearing, he only looked like he was pouting. "That wasn't part of the deal. I thought you'd give both Aerith and I the approval."

"Aerith did not dance," Rhodea effortlessly replied, and then winked at him. "Consider the recommendation a tip; a _well earned_ tip for your flawless performance. And if, by chance, you return and would like to pursue a career on the stage..."

Cloud flushed. "Not interested."

Rhodea only chuckled. "It is only an offer," he said, and then turned his attention back the rest of the group. "I can't promise that Madam M will look at the letter, but it is worth a try. The three of you can leave through the back door in the meantime, so do it quickly."

Zack immediately began equipping his sword and grabbing his box as Aerith thanked him. Rhodea then said something to Cloud, something that made him flush, before the three of them hurried out the back door. Cloud wobbled when his heel dug into a crack in the alley, but Zack and Aerith simultaneously grabbed his arm to steady him.

"Goddamn these heels," Cloud hissed, with more venom than Zack had ever heard from the quiet, soft-spoken infantryman before. "I want my old shoes back."

"Don't be such a baby and walk," Aerith told him. "If you can dance with them, then you can walk down the road with them."

"This is stupid."

Zack ignored the two of them completely. "Let's stick to the alleys," he said, glancing nervously at the main road. Darkness had descended on Wall Market, and the lights that had been strung across the road had all flared to life. They lit up the sizable crowd beneath them, all who wanted to enter the Honeybee Inn. "It'll be quieter."

"Good idea," Aerith replied before returning her attention to Cloud. "When you walk, you're going to want to hold up the skirts so they don't drag in anything gross."

Cloud huffed his frustration, but he did as ordered. "I hate this thing. Why would anyone wear this?"

"To dance in," Zack grinned, and the look Cloud gave him could have withered plants. Zack only laughed.

"Besides," Aerith added, also smiling now, "look at how _pretty_ you look! Just like a _princess_!"

"I'm not a princess," Cloud snapped as he hiked up his skirt further, just to stop accidentally kicking it.

Zack's grin broadened. _"_ If that's what you want, Princess Spikester."

"For fu… _Zack!_ "

* * *

The Turk Lounge was silent and dead. The windows had been closed and the binds drawn, and the only light came from the dim lamp sitting crooked on the desk. It bathed the room in a sickly, blue-tinged glow, and the sounds of a pen scratching against paper filled in the oppressing silence.

Tseng's emotionless gaze flicked over the report. Truth be told, he wasn't entirely sure what to write, how to explain everything that had happened, and he rubbed his temples against the twinge of pain building there. So much had happened over the past week. _Too_ much had happened: secretly rescuing Fair and Strife in the wastes; Strife being involved in the Avalanche reactor bombing; the bounty placed on Strifes head; Hojo's piqued interest in Strife. And _that_ was all on top of their previous orders, such as their Wutai mission, his orders to watch the Ancient, and the plan to assassinate President Shinra using Fair. Not to mention Cissnei's odd behavior, and Elena's strange rivalry with the more experienced Turk…

Tseng pinched the bridge of his nose to stifle the incoming headache. There just were not enough hours in the day to monitor everything, and there were not enough people he could trust to carry out their orders and keep them confidential. After all, a majority of the Turks missions were _highly_ confidential. A quarter of them were outright treason against Shinra. And as for the rest of it… well, he wasn't entirely sure what they were. A personal vendetta? Internal politics? Petty drama?

Tseng sure as hell didn't know and, simply put, this was the shortest report he had ever written. It was neat, concise, and summarized everything that wouldn't put him or his team in front of Scarlet's firing squad. In fact, he simply explained how the Turks responded to the bombing, how they planned to deal with Avalanche, and their progress thus far. As Fair and Strife had already been identified by security cameras, he also briefly noted that they were also continuing their search for Hojo's escaped Samples and continued to make progress. Everything else remained classified.

At least, that's what he would tell anyone who would ask. Yet, as he reread the report, there appeared to be something missing. He couldn't figure out _what_ though, and as he debated whether or not he should elaborate any of the other points he had made, the phone rang. He was tempted to ignore it, tempted to simply let it ring into oblivion. But then he changed his mind; maybe a brief distraction would be good for him and freshen up his mind.

Yet when he saw the caller ID, his heart immediately sank.

"Reno?" he answered, leaning back in the office chair. A dull headache pulsed between his eyes. "This better be good news."

There was an audible grimace on the other end of the line, as well as the heavy beat of a bass guitar and high, feminine singing snaking through the heady melody. _"Well, actually..."_

Tseng felt a vein throb in his forehead. There were seven trillion nerves in the human body, and he was down to his very last one. "Are you at a club?" he asked.

 _"No!"_ Reno said quickly, then paused. _"Well, at the Honeybee Inn… but you ordered us here!"_

Tseng nearly snapped his pen. "I did not book the three of you a room so that you could party."

_"I… I understand that, uh, Sir, but like..."_

There was a sudden shuffle, as if the phone was being ripped away, and Rude's baritone interjected over Reno's protests, _"There was an incident, and Fair escaped."_

If Tseng was a less patient man, he might have broken something. His pen, for instance. Or someone's neck.

"Fair escaped?" he repeated, and quietly prayed to all the gods – both known and unknown – that he had misheard.

But he was not that fortunate, and Rude said, _"Yes sir. Fair escaped, but we are in pursuit. It appears that he had the help of several honeygirls and honeyboys."_

Tseng allowed himself to process this for a moment. "You mean to say," he said slowly "that you and Reno, two of the most highly-trained and decorated Turks to grace our department, were tricked by a group of _dancers_?"

There was a lengthy pause after he had finished. Then: _"I apologize, sir. Reno and I are in pursuit now. We'll find him soon."_

"Please," Tseng finished, and he abruptly hung up. The headache bloomed between his eyes and he pressed his fingers against his temple, massaging the now-throbbing ache.

He was just about to put some tea on the kettle – the perfect cure to his stress – when the door suddenly flew open, revealing a pink-cheeked Elena. Seeing him, her eyes brightened and she quickly closed the door behind her.

"There you are!" she said. Her shirt was untucked and dirt scuffed her shoes; she must have been searching the city for him while he had gone to visit Elmyra Gainsborough. "I've been looking _everywhere_ for you!"

Tseng only began heating water, and patiently waited for her to continue.

"So earlier, I saw something pretty interesting," she reported, smoothing out all of the wrinkles in her suit top. Straightening, she continued, "It's Cissnei."

 _Of course it was,_ Tseng thought as the water began to bubble.

"She has been acting suspiciously, and I believe that she removed something out of storage," Elena continued without breath. "She was holding a very old PHS model and a worn charger. There were bloodstains on it too, and it didn't seem like it belonged to her. I believe that it belonged to one of the MIA or KIA operatives… no, KIA for sure," she amended after a pause. "Because of the blood."

The kettle began to whistle. "And why should I concern myself with that?" Tseng asked as he poured the steaming water into a mug.

"I'm just saying that it may be worth double checking the things in storage," she insisted. "Just to make sure. What if it's for Wutai? What if she's a _spy_?"

Tseng turned to her for the first time, surprise flickering through his gaze, but Elena's expression was completely, utterly serious. "That's a bold accusation," he said coolly.

"It is," Elena agreed, her tone just as hard. "But I am also a Turk, and fully believe that this is worth looking into."

Tseng watched her for a moment, took note of the tightness of her expression, the fire in her eyes, and he realized that Elena was utterly convinced that she was correct.

"I'll look into it," he promised. But his agreement wasn't only to placate her. Taking an item out of storage _was_ highly unusual, especially as he suspected that Cissnei didn't have the correct credentials _to_ take items out of storage. Of course, Elena could be mistaken, but at the same time…

"That's all I ask," Elena replied. She looked immensely pleased by this, and with a small bow, she left the Turk Lounge with her head held high and her strides long.

The moment she left, Tseng set aside his cup of tea and logged onto the nearest computer. He entered in his credentials, which carried the same weight as an admin, and began shifting through the storage security cameras.

He watched the feed for a few minutes, but Cissnei never appeared and he was about to drop the matter entirely. Yet just when he was about to exit out of the system, one of the cameras – a small one hidden in the corner – detected movement, and Cissnei appeared a second later. She wore her Turk uniform and her expression was steel as she strode purposefully through the room. It was obvious by the way she was weaving that she was avoiding all of the other security cameras, but she had clearly forgotten about the one Tseng now watched. The camera captured everything; it saw her stopping in front of the back, where the boxes of MIA and KIA Shinra employee belongings were stored, and then began shifting through them. It wasn't long before she found the one she wanted, and pulled it out of its shelf.

Tseng paused the feed here and zoomed in as close to the box's label as he could get, and then both sharpened and brightened the image.

The moment he read the label, his breath went taunt.

 _Zackary Fair,_ the label read.

Tseng leaned back in the chair, and the leather groaned beneath him. _So Elena was correct,_ he realized, _and Cissnei removed some of Fair's belongings._ But why? To what purpose? He folded his hands beneath his chin, his eyes narrowed and lips pursed in question.

_Unless…_

His eyes narrowed a fraction.

_Unless she knows where he is, and is delivering his things to him._

That led to an entirely new set of questions, but they went ignored as Tseng cut the feed, wiped the computer's history, and logged out before sharply rising to his feet. Cissnei _had_ seemed to disapprove of the plan to use Fair to assassinate President Shinra… and now he wondered, _Would she betray us over it?_ She had given her word that he could count on her, but now he couldn't help but think that maybe her word wasn't enough anymore. That maybe – just maybe – she had other priorities now.

Maybe she had even gone rogue.

The door swung on its hinges as Tseng left the Turk Lounge. He wasn't entirely sure _what_ he was going to do, let alone where he was going, but he knew that he needed to do something. Anything. His team was falling apart, and he had to somehow pull it all back together before it irrevocably broke for good.

Meanwhile, his report lay on his desk, forgotten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am soooo curious as to what you all thought of the dancing scene (and the rest of the chapter of course, but mostly the dancing scene lol)??! I tried to stay true to the remake and probably listening to that entire dance at least 20 times while writing it haha. There was just so many different ways and directions I wanted to take it, but eventually settled on what you've just real -- I know a lot of you were looking forward to the dance scene, so I hope I did it justice?!?!
> 
> Feel free to follow [my twitter](https://twitter.com/Rand0mSmil3z) if you'd like to stay updated on my writing schedule and see chapter previews. Links to my ko-fi and other stories are there too, if you'd like to help support my work 💙 But there's absolutely no pressure to do so; if you're happy with the story, then I'm happy 🥰
> 
> Until next time - stay well, stay safe, and I wish you all the best 💙


	23. High Heels and Hand Massages

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! I hope everyone has had a safe and wonderful week 💙
> 
> Well.... if you've read the chapter title and have the read the snippets I post on [my twitter](https://twitter.com/Rand0mSmil3z), then you know what's coming 😉 Also, huge thank you to [silver_doe287](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_doe287) for being the best beta reader, as always 🥰
> 
> Enjoy the chapter 💙

Wall Market became a different world after the sun had gone down.

Eager shouts blanketed the once-quiet streets, and the muggy air was choked with the scent of fried food, alcohol, and sweat. Paper lanterns dyed the bustling road shades of red and orange. Neon signs flared above open doorways. Strung lights swayed in the hot, dusty breeze, and bodies clogged the main road as they pushed past each other, their skin clammy beneath scanty clothes, as the promise of an unforgettable night was sung – again and again and again – from nearly every building that lined the road.

Zack averted his gaze from the crowd, choosing instead to lead Aerith and Cloud through a quiet alleyway. The alley was thin and disgusting, as all side-streets in the infamous Wall Market were, and he wrinkled his noise at heavy scent of bile and booze. The air even _tasted_ sour, but he ignored it because it was far safer here than on the main road. Here, they could hide in the shadows. They could slip undetected between the buildings. No one would question who they were, there was no one trying to start a conversation, and unlike the main road, no one was trying to grab their attention.

Not to mention that Reno and Rude would have a harder time finding them in the convoluted alleyways than in the middle of the street.

Call it paranoia or call it old habits dying hard, but Zack was constantly looking over his shoulder for a shock of red hair or a midnight-dark pair of sunglasses. His fingers itched to hold his sword. His body screamed at him to find somewhere to hunker down until the danger passed, but those instincts were forged under SOLDIER training and refined over his recent year on the open road. Those instincts had worked then, but they didn’t work _here._ Here, there was no hiding, no finding a cave and lying low for a day or two or five, no waiting for the danger to pass, because it _wouldn’t._ The Turks had never stopped searching for him and, given recent events, probably would never stop.

Besides… maybe it was time to stop hiding.

The thought singed Zack’s nerves and he jerked his gaze away from the mouth of the alley, away from the sea of bodies flooded just beyond its dark walls, and tried to focus on what was directly in front of him… but it was easier said than done. His ears rang with adrenaline. His mouth tasted like metal. Something twisted within him like a dagger, stung him like a thousand bullets finding their mark, and he had the sudden urge to start running.

Zack shook his head, as if to clear it. _Need a distraction,_ he knew, and he eventually asked, “How are you doing, Spikey?”

There was a huff of breath, followed by a very firm, _“Fine._ ”

It was a lie; Zack knew not just becauseCloud’s voice lifted the last few letters higher, or because his mako-stained eyes – which were now glowing hot and bright – dipped towards his feet. Over the course of their walk, his stride was becoming more off-centered, and his high-heeled shoes clacked against the concrete in an off-beat tune. His breathing was shallow and quick. His fingers were tightly wrapped around the heavy, generous silks of his blue skirts, and it was clear by his lightly trembling hands that he was rapidly growing tired of holding them.

Yet Cloud’s stubborn streak had reached an all-time high, and any attempt to help him was met with scathing looks and pursed, glossy lips.

“How about we take a quick rest?” Aerith offered when they encountered some semi-clean, stacked boxes resting against a wall. “Right here would be perfect.”

Cloud’s hands tightened around his skirts. “I’m _fine._ ”

“Well, what about me?” Zack slowed his stride so that he walked beside Cloud, and yet the younger blond refused to look at him. “What if _I_ need a break?”

“ _Please_ ,” he replied, his tone accusing. “You don’t… don’t need a break.”

“Maybe I _want_ a break.”

“But you… you don’t.” Cloud spoke with the slightest of stutters as he glared at Zack, but then he suddenly winced – a subtle movement – and his gaze dropped to the ground. His mascara-heavy lashes cut shadows across his flushed cheeks. “I’m fine,” he said again in a low murmur. “Just hate… these shoes.”

Aerith winced in sympathy. “Heels suck, don’t they?” she said, which was met with a noncommittal shrug. “Do you have blisters on the sides of your feet?” she continued. “Or on your heel?”

His grip tightened on his skirts. “I’m – I’m fine.”

_“Cloud.”_

His flush deepened. “Um…” He glanced the other way. “Nowhere.”

“Show me?” Aerith asked, and when Cloud shook his head in a firm _no,_ she placed her hands on her hips. _“Cloud.”_

“Let’s fix the shoes back at Madam M’s place,” Zack cut in, if only to spare Cloud from Aerith’s interrogation. “We don’t have anything to use for bandages anyway, and we’re almost there. Not to mention that you probably don’t want to go barefoot right now,” he added with a wry grin. “Kinda nasty.”

Aerith wrinkled her nose. “That’s true...”

“So Cloud, do you think you can make it until then?” Zack asked, and when Cloud’s expression hardened and he nodded, Zack’s smile softened. “Good,” he replied, and turned back to Aerith. “Once we get to Madam M’s place, I can buy some supplies -” _potions,_ he meant, “- while you talk to Madam M? You have a better idea of what’s happening anyway,” he added when Aerith frowned.

She pursed her lips, clearly unhappy with this arrangement, but eventually sighed her agreement. “Let’s just hurry. And Cloud,” she added after a pause, “let me know if it gets too painful, okay?” Cloud made a low noise that could have meant anything, but she seemed to accept it regardless. “Good.”

But as they continued heading deeper into the alley, Zack knew that it was more than a blistered heel that was bothering Cloud. The fact of the matter was that he had overdone it back at the Honeybee Inn; he had _barely_ recovered from yesterday’s relapse, and in a perfect world, he would be resting in bed now instead of wandering back alleys in one of the most dangerous parts of Wall Market.

 _And he’ll need another potion soon,_ Zack mentally tacked on when he glanced at Cloud. _And definitely some bandages too, depending on those damn shoes…_ He turned away and chewed on the end of his fingernail, a familiar unease twisting within him. _There must be a pharmacy around here somewhere._ _Though I don’t have any money…_

… _but,_ he realized a half-beat later, _I may have something a little better._

He reached into his pant pocket and traced the hard edge of the Turk contractor card. The ID would be worth a _lot_ to some people, the same people who frequented Wall Market. He pursed his lips in thought; _M_ _aybe_ _I_ _could trade it_ _in_ _for some gil._ _How much though… five thousand, maybe? No, should probably ask for seven…_

Cloud’s suddenly stumbled when his heel caught on a crack in the alley, but Zack’s hand snapped out and caught him with hardly a thought. “I got you,” he said as Cloud regained his balance, but Cloud’s movements were awkward, his expression distant and dazed, and his eyes were glowing far too brightly for Zack’s tastes. Another lick of worry trilled through him, and he asked, “The heels again?”

After a pause Cloud nodded, _without_ a sour look this time, and Zack exchanged a brief glance with Aerith. She immediately understood and quickened her pace; as Zack’s grip on Cloud’s too-thin forearm tightened a fraction, she looped her hand around Cloud’s other arm to help further stabilize him.

“Maybe we should take a quick break,” she offered again, mirroring her previous suggestion as they continued down the alley. It had meandered closer to the main road, and the smell of fried food and popcorn lingered heavily in the air. “It couldn’t hurt.”

Zack wordlessly agreed; after all, Cloud’s condition seemed to be getting worse – _rapidly_. Maybe that dance had worn him out more than he had let on earlier, and Zack now cast him a quick glance. Cloud didn’t notice; his attention was focused at the mouth of the alley, his mako-stained eyes pinned on a food stall…

And just like that, it all clicked.

“I’m starving,” Zack loudly proclaimed to no one in particular “Cloud, you want anything?”

Cloud blinked as he processed the question, and then shrugged weakly in reply.

“Well, _I’m_ hungry,” Aerith declared. “And it’s my treat, _because,”_ she added before Zack could get a word in, “I don’t stand out nearly as much as you two do, and _I’m_ the only one here with gil. Lesson one of living in the slums,” she added, grinning as she held up a single finger. “ _N_ _ever_ leave the house without a little money.”

Cloud cocked his head. “Why?” he asked flatly.

“Well, just in case you’re mugged.” She reached into the inner lining of her leather jacket and pulled out a small satchel, which jingled with a few coin. “But the trick is to always keep a _little_ gil in your purse, and then you hide the rest in your shoe or something. That way if you’re mugged, the mugger just takes your purse thinking that that’s all you have, when it’s actually not.” She smiled at him. _“_ Make sense?”

Cloud shrugged, unable – or unwilling – to determine if that made sense or not.

But as for Zack, he was _horrified._ “You really do that?” he asked. As he was in SOLDIER, no one had dared to mug him – anyone who tried was either shockingly stupid, shockingly brave, or a horrible combination of both. But to mug a young, pretty girl, however… “Have you… Have you been _mugged?_ ”

Aerith’s smile went sharp. “Only once,” she replied, and her words dropped into Zack like a stone. “But don’t worry – I know how to take care of myself.”

“I know you can, but like...” Zack sharply exhaled. “I mean, it’s just that...”

“Zack, don’t _worry,_ okay?” She reached across Cloud to place a hand on his bare arm, and he could feel the heat of her palm against his skin. “I’ll take care of everything. So let’s just focus on the right now, okay? I’ll buy us something to eat – just right over there, so you’ll be able to see me the entire time – and then we’ll head to the massage place with Madam M. And then once we get there,” she continued, her fingers tightening around his arm, “we’ll decide on what to do next. Okay?”

“We have to – have to save Tifa,” Cloud cut in, his stammer urgent.

Aerith smiled at him. “And we will,” she promised. “I’ll just get some food real fast, okay? Can’t save anyone on an empty stomach, after all!” Cloud blinked at her, his eyes burning bright, before nodding in agreement.

And with that, Aerith flashed the two boys a final, parting smile before making her way to the nearest food stall. Zack’s sea glass eyes tracked her movement, and his heart rate quickened every time a group of people hid her from view. His boots tapped the ground. His fingers drummed against his crossed arms. Anxiety constricted and knotted within his chest; it pounded against his ribs and frantically fluttered about like a caged birth until he could taste metal in his mouth and tragedy in every thrumming heart beat.

“How you doing, Cloud?” he asked after a while, just to distract himself from the fact that his world was out of arms reach. “Doing okay?”

There was a pause as Cloud processed the question, but then he churned out a predictable, “Fine.” He had found himself a cleaner box to sit on; now his legs dangled over its edge, and his hands were buried in the generous skirts over his lap. His eyes were heavy-lidded and glazed, though he was now watching Zack with unblinking, brilliantly luminous, mako-green eyes.

That stare was unnerving. It was unnerving and scary and wrong for several reasons, but Zack forced himself to hold that gaze and smile. He forced his shoulders to relax and his hands to unclench, because Aerith had told him not to treat Cloud like he was unwell and _by the Titan_ that was exactly what he was going to do. Cloud might be lying through his teeth about how fine he was, but one day that wouldn’t be the case. One day he’d be perfectly healthy – healthy _and_ happy, if Zack had any say about it.

But in the meantime, they’d have to wade through _this_ … whatever _this_ was. Not to mention that they also had to avoid the Turks, avoid Hojo, avoid Shinra, find Don Corneo, save Tifa, and then somehow convince Aerith to leave the city with him…

Zack leaned against the wall with a loud sigh, one that had Cloud blinking. “This sucks.”

“Sucks?” Cloud echoed.

“Pretty much.” The box of letters felt heavy in Zack’s hands and the Buster Sword, stuck between him and the wall, pressed uncomfortably on his back. Shifting his weight, he continued, “Like, what a messed-up day.”

Cloud’s expression dimmed slightly, and that was response enough.

“I just wish...” Zack traced the hard edges of the box with his fingers as the bitter words rested on his tongue _._ “I guess I just wish… that people would just leave us alone. I mean, what did we ever do to them, huh?” The box’s thin clasp caught on his thumb, but he didn’t notice the pinch, the pull, the stinging tug. “I mean, we joined Shinra to _help_ people. We risked our _lives_ to help them, to be a hero, to save the entire world. And instead… and _instead,_ we got royally screwed, and...”

_What am I saying?_

He ran an impatient hand through his hair, heat singing his cheeks. “… And never mind,” he bluntly finished. “Forget I said anything.” What was he doing, ranting like this? That wasn’t like him, not to mention that he was ranting to _Cloud_ of all people – _Cloud,_ who had more shit done to him and had gone through so much more than anyone ever deserved. Flashed him an apologetic grin, Zack said, “Sorry, Spikey. Got a little carried away there, huh?”

But Cloud only shook his head and, for the longest time, didn’t reply. He simply balled his hands into his lap and hunched his shoulders, until the rich blue fabric of his dress swallowed him up in rich tule and silk. “I…” he murmured, in such a small voice that even Zack strained to hear him. “…I miss home.”

Just like that, Zack’s heart – which was already broken in more ways than one – cracked a little bit more, and he reached forward to place a hand on Cloud’s shoulder. He could feel the heat of Cloud’s skin through his palm, but also the sharp edges and hard dips of his still too-thin shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Zack murmured.

Surprise flickered through Cloud’s sea glass eyes. “For… what?”

 _For everything,_ Zack nearly said.

But he couldn’t get the words out; his throat painfully tightened until the words were like barbed wire inside of him. “Tell you what,” he eventually managed to continue. “Once we leave Midgar, I’ll take you to my parent’s house. Like, it’ll be hot and muggy all the time there, but Gongaga isn’t too bad one you get used to it. And besides, my parents will _love_ you! My mom can make you some of her Gaia-famous pineapple chicken, and you can have the spare bedroom! Which is lucky,” he added with a dry chuckle, “because _my_ bedroom is next to my parents’ room, and my dad snores like he’s a motorcycle.”

Cloud lifted his gaze to blink up at him with his too-big, too bright eyes. Yet something else flickered in his sea-glass gaze, something other than mako poisoning or acute exhaustion.

Hope.

“Really?” His voice was small, bordering on shy. “You’d… do that?”

Zack managed a thin smile, because the fact that Cloud even had to _ask_ further broke his already brittle heart. “Of course, buddy,” he replied, and reached forward to lightly ruffle Cloud’s hair – taking care not to damage his bow, of course. “We’re brothers, right?”

Cloud’s eyes went watery. “Right.”

It wasn’t long afterwards until Aerith returned with paper bags heavy in her hands. Grease stained the bottom of some of the bags, and judging by her fingers, she had already helped herself to their contents. “Back!” she called when she got closer. “Mission accomplished. And see?” she continued, her tone teasing. “No problem at all.”

Zack managed a crooked grin as he stepped in front of Cloud, giving Cloud a moment to discretely wipe his eyes. “Guess so,” he said. “What did you bring?”

“Teriyaki chicken and _taiyaki._ ” Aerith handed him one of the bags; skewered chicken dripping with rich teriyaki sauce made a mess of its interior, and the sweet, tangy smell had Zack’s stomach grumbling. “And the taiyaki is pretty cute! Look,” she added, pulling one out of the bag. “The bread is shaped like a fish!”

“What… do you have?” Cloud asked from behind Zack. His eyes were a bit red around the edges, but the makeup – not to mention the heavy mascara – did a good job of hiding it.

“Teriyaki chicken and a sweat bread called taiyaki.” Aerith pulled out another one of breads to show him. “See? Cute, right?”

Cloud lightly frowned. “Is it good?”

“I think so! It has like… some sort of red bean paste middle? It’s sweet though, if you want to try it!”

Cloud seemed to debate it for a moment before he inclined his head, and he took a small bite when Aerith passed him one of the fish-shaped breads. He took a larger bite soon after though, so Zack took it as meaning that he liked it. Zack, on the other hand, was happy to eat nothing but teriyaki chicken the rest of the night. And forever, possibly.

“And be careful of your lipstick, Cloud,” Aerith piped up. “You gotta pull your lips back a little so you don’t smear it, and only take _small_ bites so it’s easier.”

Cloud’s expression pinched. “I hate makeup,” he muttered, though he did as he was instructed. “Why do – do people wear this?”

“Because it makes them look like a boss ass bitch,” Aerith replied.

Zack choked on his chicken.

“ _Well_ ,” he managed, just as soon as he recovered, “should we keep going? The sooner we get to the massage place and get her approval or whatever, the sooner we can save Tifa.”

 _And the sooner we can figure out the bounty on Cloud’s head,_ he mentally tacked on. _And get Cloud a potion, and bandages,_ _and whatever else we need._

As soon as they polished off the rest of the food, they continued on their way. When Cloud slipped off of his box to continue walking, Zack immediately noticed that he seemed a little more stable on his heels, though his awkward gate hadn’t quite faded entirely. There was also more color in his cheeks too, besides the blush, and he seemed a little more alert while he was walking.

They were all goods signs, absolutely. But Zack knew that what Cloud needed was a _potion,_ and once again, his hands slipped into his pocket and traced the edges to his Turk ID. Potions were expensive – _especially_ in the slums – but if traded his Turk ID for cash…

 _… It’s an option,_ he decided, clenching his jaw. Besides, he had a feeling that if he passed through any identification checkpoint wearing his ID, he would get flagged _immediately_. And next time, he might not just get confined to the Honeybee Inn. Next time, it may be worse.

Like a lab.

A strange chill clung to him as he continued to guide Aerith and Cloud through the alleys, and it wasn’t long before they came across the building that they had been looking for.

“Ol’ Johnny’s been had,” muttered somebody near the entrance. Zack glanced over, onto see too a man with shocking red hair and no shirt. He had his head buried in his hands. “She’s a siren, I tell you...”

Zack arched an eyebrow and almost asked Aerith what was that guy’s deal, but she only hissed, “ _Keep walking_.”

“Why?” Zack replied, his voice equally low. “You know him?”

She made a sour face. “Not really, and let’s keep it that way.”

 _Fair enough._ Zack gave the strange man one last, wayward glance before they stepped in front of the massage parlor. Lights had been strung along its front and blinked cheerfully in the night, while paper lanterns spilled a warm, red glow across the entrance way. Ferns grew wild along the small path to the door. Small lanterns and jade vases marked the way, and the front door was decorated with stained glass and neon signs.

Aerith already began walking towards the door, Cloud quickly following with a faint sigh, but Zack paused. Across the street was a store labeled _Magical Materia Shop –_ which was in itself shocking, as Zack had never expected a materia store in the slums – but if he knew one thing about materia shops, it was that they also tended to sell potions and ethers.

He also knew that the shops in Wall Market tended to be _very_ loose with what they accepted as payment, and he had a Turk Contractor ID that he needed to get rid of. Just in case they could track him using it.

“I’ll be right behind you guys,” Zack said, taking a step away from the massage parlor. “I just need to -”

But before he could explain, Cloud’s eyes flew wide. “Zack, _no._ ”

“Don’t worry.” He tried to smile, but even Aerith’s expression had shifted into concern despite her earlier agreement. “I’ll be right across the street, at the materia shop. They sell potions there,” he added when Aerith’s expression didn’t change. “Maybe even some bandages, and I can trade my ID for stuff.”

Aerith’s brow furrowed. “Your ID?”

“I was using it when I worked for the Turks,” he explained. “Back when… well, back when you went missing and when I was trying to find you.” He glanced at Cloud with a small smile. “It was an I-help-you, you-help-me sort of situation. Though,” he added with a dry chuckle, “I didn’t really do much to help. Mostly I went missing and caused headaches.”

Aerith managed a wane smile at that. “Sounds about right,” she teased, but her heart wasn’t in it, and her smile slipped a moment later. “Be back soon?”

Cloud’s hands bunched in his skirts, something he didn’t seem to realize that he was doing, and his lower lips was lifted in a pout. “I can… can go instead.”

It was obvious that Cloud wasn’t going to drop it, so Zack switched tactics. “Here, take care of this for me.”

He thrust his box of letters into Cloud’s arms, and the blond glanced down at it, his luminous eyes blinking at the box’s plain wood. “What…?”

“It’s letters,” Zack explained. “Eighty-eight of them.”

Aerith’s lips formed a small _o._

“And they’re really important to me,” Zack continued, flashing Aerith a gentle smile, before he turned his attention back to Cloud. “Keep it safe until I get back?”

Cloud blinked again, slower this time. “Oh… Okay.”

Zack exhaled, and managed a thin smile. “Thanks, buddy.”

“Eighty-eight letters, huh?” Aerith suddenly said. No longer did concern line her eyes, and worry was no longer etched across her features. Instead there was something else hidden in her expression, something that Zack couldn’t quite identify. “Whoever wrote those to you must have liked you a lot.”

Zack smiled crookedly. “Must have,” he said, his tone vague. “I’ll see you guys in a bit?”

“Sounds good,” Aerith replied. “But… come right back, okay? No getting kidnapped by Turks this time.”

If it was any other time, Zack might have laughed. But instead he only solemnly nodded and said, “I won’t – I promise.”

And when Aerith and Cloud entered the massage parlor – causing its small bell to chime hollowly across the road – Zack stepped across the street.

The entranceway to the materia store was far different than the one leading up to the massage parlor. For starters, the lights here were dim and flickered irregularly with the faulty, sparking circuits. The road was cracked and mud, slick with something unknown, was caked between the cracked pavement. The sign itself was small and dirty, but Zack did his best to ignore it as he stepped over the mud and into the store.

A bell chimed above him as he entered, and the door behind him groaned as it closed.

But something else groaned, too.

“Wha?” a man’s voice wheezed, and even Zack – with his instantly-focusing eyes – hadn’t seen the man sprawled out before him. The shop owner was lounged behind the counter, a thick pillow beneath his head and a stained blanket covering his lower half. A beard blurred his features, and his thick eyebrows nearly hid his eyes entirely from view. “A… A customer?”

“Something like that,” Zack replied coolly. He did a once-over around the store; it certainly _looked_ like a materia shop. Strange rocks, many of them glowing various shades of green and violet had been thrown haphazardly along the walls. Chunks of cloudy crystal were stacked on the floor and cluttered the shelves. There were even some weapons as well, and their sharp edges glinted from the many candles flickered in the dark space.

Making a decision, and already knowing that it was probably a poor one, Zack stepped up to the counter. “I need all the potions you have, a roll of bandages, plus an electric and a restore materia. And one thousand gil in change,” he added as an afterthought.

The man arched a bushy eyebrow, which was a feat in of itself. It looked heavy. “Materia, you say?”

“That’s right.”

The man stared at him for a moment, his expression unreadable, before he slowly, almost painfully, sighed. “Fine, then. That’ll be… seven thousand gil for all of it.”

Zack just about choked. _Seven…_ “How many potions do you have?” he managed to stammer. _Twenty?_

“Five,” the man replied.

 _Only five…_ Zack just about sputtered. _Is this guy_ _ **high**_ _?_

The shop keeper ran his fingers along his beard, clearly awaiting an answer.

But Zack played it cool. He pretended to think about it for a moment, before he said, “Listen. Seven thousand is a lot, but I can do you one better.”

The man arched his eyebrow once again, a little higher now, and this time Zack thought he saw the glint of gray eyes from somewhere beneath the wiry hair.

Without another word, Zack reached into his pocket and pulled out his Turk Contractor ID. He hadn’t wanted to show it off so early in their negotiations, but at this point, he didn’t really have a choice. “You know what this is,” Zack said, and prayed the man did.

Luckily, given the way the shop keeper’s eyes lit up, he did. Maybe not _entirely –_ Turk IDs were a rare thing, after all – but he _did_ know that it was a Shinra-official ID, one that could get him to the upper plates.

“I’m going to be honest with you,” Zack continued. “The people who gave it to me want it back, _but,_ ” he quickly added before the excitement faded from the man’s eyes, “it’ll get you to the upper plate, no problem at all. That’s what you want, right?”

Gods, he hoped that’s what the shopkeeper wanted, but luckily his gamble payed off.

“Fuck, man,” the shopkeeper breathed. “I -”

“So we’ll both be doing each other a favor.” Zack’s expression hardened; now he was all SOLDIER, all business, and not at all the broken man that had traveled across the wastes for months. “You get to the upper plate no questions asked, and I get what I want. Deal?”

The man thickly swallowed. “This legit?”

“Hell yeah.” Zack’s eyes flared; he was rapidly losing his patience. Aerith and Cloud were waiting for him, after all. “Look at my eyes. SOLDIER-eyes, right?” The man paled, as if noticing for the first time, but Zack ignored the tang of fear in the air. He was used to it by now. “They don’t give out these things to anybody but people like me.”

“Why you wanna get rid of it, huh?” The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed as his eyes narrowed. “If you’re SOLDIER, then you’re just a Shinra mutt, yeah? Why betray them? What’s in it for you, huh?”

Zack’s expression darkened. “Because they screwed me over.” His tone – the hard edge buried in every word, the storm laced through every syllable – left no room for argument. “The rest isn’t your concern. So are you willing to trade for the ID, or what? Because,” he added, his tone shifting into something darker, “I can just go to the shop next door and get this shit, too. You just happened to be the closest.”

The man paled further. “All right, all right,” he said. “Just give it here. Potions are to the right, and the materia is in the shelf beneath it. Bandages in the box by the door. And here,” he added, shuffling a handful of golden coins across the counter, “is one thousand gil, in change. Per your agreement.”

Zack swallowed his exhale, and kept his expression severe. “Excellent,” he replied, and pocketing the gil, tossed the man the ID before he grabbed the rest. He attached the materia to his sword and shoved the potions into his pockets, before exiting and heading back to the massage parlor, his shoulders stiff and eyes flaring hot.

It was only when the muggy, sour-tasting air of Wall Market slapped him in the face that he released his pent breath.

Something _finally_ went right.

It was a long time coming, and it lifted his mood as he crossed the road – after confirming that Reno and Rude weren’t around, of course – and made his way back into the massage parlor.

The moment he opened the door, the scent of lilac and jasmine singed his nose. Gentle music reverberated from a small speaker in the corner, though the melody was nearly drowned out by a woman’s sharp tone and Aerith’s frustrated huffs. Murals of blooming flowers, their white petals overlapping each other in a way that reminded Zack of an onion, were etched into the walls while paper flowers decorated the front desk.

Cloud, who had been sitting on one of the chairs in the waiting room, had glanced towards the door with a startled expression… but his rigid tension melted the moment he realized who it was.

“Zack,” he breathed.

Zack grinned. “Hey, Spikes,” he replied as he reached into his pocket. “Brought you a little something.”

“I kept your letters safe.”

“Ah. Thanks, buddy.” Zack tried to keep his expression neutral as he handed Cloud one of the potions from his pocket. “Drink all of that. And how’s your head feeling?” He knelt down and removed one of Cloud’s heels, which was more like a high-heeled boot than anything else. Sure enough, the back of his heel was an angry red and Zack suppressed a wince as he grabbed the roll of bandages. “It feeling fuzzy again?”

Cloud made a face, but whether from the bandages or the potion, it was impossible to tell. “A… A little.”

Which was Cloud-speak for, _a lot._

Zack’s lips pitched into a frown. _I guess he hasn’t fully recovered from yesterday,_ he realized. _And then with today’s excitement…_

“Well, you’ll feel better as soon as you drink that,” Zack promised as he slipped Cloud’s boot on and then checked on the other – which was, thankfully, fine for the time being. Cloud nodded, utterly passive in his own treatment, and Zack managed another thin smile before turning to the commotion happening at the front desk, because Aerith was _pissed._

And so, apparently, was the masseuse.

“Say another word and I’ll shove this fan down your throat,” the Madam M growled at Aerith from the front desk. She held her fan in front of her like a weapon, and the beads woven in with her headdress clinked together like rain when she turned her head with teeth bared.

Aerith seemed taken aback by the fan, but resolutely continued, “Excuse me, I -”

But she was cut off as Zack glided forward and, placing a hand on Aerith’s shoulder, flashed Madam M one of his winning smiles. “What seems to be the problem?” he asked, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

His puppy-face had always worked with Angeal – _always_ – but this woman seemed to be immune, which was a solid blow to his pride. “Great,” she said, huffing in a way that nearly had the loose material of her kimono slipping off of her shoulders. “Just great. Let me guess, all three of you -” she waved her fan in a vague circle, “- are together?”

“That’s right.” He attempted another dazzling smile, but Madam M only rolled her eyes. “We’re trying to get approval for Corneo, and -”

“So I’ve been told.” She dramatically sighed once again. “And because you’re all young and stupid, I suppose that means that you think I’ll let you off easy?” Zack blinked dumbly in response and she stepped out from behind the counter, the flat of her fan bounced against her palm as her shoes clicked across the floor. “So you want… what, exactly?” she continued, enunciating every syllable. “A favor?”

“… Depends.”

“Well, here’s the thing.” Madam M slid in front of Zack, her fan bouncing all the while. “This is a massage parlor – a _respectable_ establishment. But if you _don’t_ require our services,” she continued, her voice dropped low, “then tell...”

But then she paused. Her lips flattened and she peered at Zack’s face, who looked down at her a confused, half-hearted smile.

“Name,” she ordered.

Zack blinked. “Uh, excuse me?”

“You’re name!”

Madam M’s voice pierced the air, and Zack just about winced. “Uh… Kevin.”

Her gaze narrowed. “Kevin, huh?”

“That’s right.”

Aerith chuckled behind him, but manage to drown it in a cough when Madam M glared at her.

“Hm.” Madam M’s brow furrowed, as if she was debating something, but then her expression smoothed and she returned her attention to Zack. “Hand.”

Zack blinked. “Huh?”

“Give it to me!” Next thing Zack knew, Madam M had his hand in her own. Her thumb dug into the tight flesh of his palm, and the leather of his gloves groaned beneath her ministrations.

“The strong, firm hands of a fighter,” Madam M mused as her fingers kneaded his hand, “and yet they possess a certain… _elegance_ and _grace_.”

Zack grinned. “Hell yeah they do,” he replied, which had Madam M scowling.

But then her expression slipped into something more… pleasant. “Okay, _Kevin,_ ” she began, her lips curving at his obviously fake name. “Let’s see what you’re made of. And after that,” she added, glancing back at Aerith as she sauntered to the back room, “we’ll talk.”

She clearly expected Zack to follow, which he did after a brief shrug at Aerith. “Watch Cloud for me?” he murmured as he placed his sword against the wall. “He’s really… out of it.”

Aerith nodded, and with that he dipped beneath an arched door and made his way down the hallway to a small back room, which was tucked in the corner.

A thick curtain, dyed scarlet and embroidered with flowers, divided the back room from the rest of the establishment. The scent of perfumed oils and floral lotions lingered in the air. Candlelight flickered in the warmly lit space. A small fountain bubbled in the corner, heated stones were stacked neatly against one of the walls, and in the middle of the room was a raised bed with a single cushion marking where the head went.

“Please,” Madam M said as she guided Zack to the bed. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Zack took a single step towards the bed, distinctly _not_ comfortable. “What are you going to do?”

“Oh, an exclusive treatment,” she easily replied, and the corner of her lips curved into a smile. “One that is reserved for only our most well-to-do patrons.”

Zack wasn’t sure if he liked the sound of that, but eventually he decided that it couldn’t hurt. Besides, if it turned out she _was_ a Shinra doctor or something, he could easily fight his way out. She didn’t seem _that_ strong.

And with that thought firmly in mind, he obediently lied down.

“First, the hand cream.” Madam M’s voice had taken on a silken quality, and she dipped her finger in a small jar and rubbed the milky lotion against her palms, lightly warming it before she gently lifted Zack’s hand. She then pushed her slender fingers between his, and their warmth – no, their _heat –_ flicked against his skin, burning him and chilling him all at once.Leaning forward, her robes slipped against her shoulders as she murmured, “A generous coating for each one of your richly deserving fingers...”

She lightly squeezed, pressing their palms flush together, and Zack shifted his gaze to the far wall as he thickly swallowed. “So let’s begin,” she continued, her voice low and husky, “with the tips.”

The pressure against his palm eased as her fingers slid towards his fingertips, gently pushing and pressing all the while. Her hands smothered his in warmth. Her fingers teased the soft flesh between his knuckles, and he licked his lips as he shifted again.

Her lips curved into a smile. “That’s it,” she said, her voice a low hush. “ _Relax._ I’m only trying to help.”

Zack – against all his instincts – closed his eyes.

Her fingers slipped upward, once at his tips, now steadily moving towards their base. A noise slipped out of his throat when she pressed against a tender spot, and a low chuckle reverberated through the air. “Oh? Did that hurt?”

“No…” Zack said, before he could stop himself.

Madam M chuckled again, if that was exactly the answer she had been expecting. “Then I’ll move on,” she told him, in the same tone as saying she was only wearing satin, “to the base of the fingers...”

The beads in her headdress chimed and sang as she switched to a better position. There was a rustle of fabric, the hush of a moving stool, and then the sweet pressure returned to his aching palm. It was strange; he had never noticed how tight the muscles were, nor how they gently throbbed with tension.

But Madam M noticed. “Let’s see if we can’t improve your… circulation,” she told him as she firmly grasped his tingling hand. “Get that blood flowing.”

She pulled gently at something else, and then there was nothing but warmth. Faint noises bubbled from his throat, and he bit his lip to keep himself silent.

“Oh no, don’t _fight_ it,” Madam M said. Zack cracked open his eyes to see her leaning over him, her eyes bright with mirth. “Stress is poison to the body.”

Zack frowned, but closed his eyes once again and allowed her to finish… whatever she was doing to him.

“And finally,” she continued, her voice low and sultry, “some gentle stimulation for the palm. Just...” her fingertips skimmed his forearm, “...like...” her fingers, deliciously warm, wrapped around his hand and lifted it, “...this.”

And then her thumbs thrust into the soft flesh of his palm. Again, and again, and again, and Zack refused to acknowledge that the faint noises that snuck out between his bitten lips belonged to him. They couldn’t. They didn’t. They -

“Oh? What was that?” He could hear the laugh in Madam M’s voice. “A cry of pleasure?”

Zack squeezed his eyes shut tighter, the heat of embarrassment rushing through him.

“Is this how you like it?” She pushed into him again and his throat tightened against another faint noise; he shifted against the table, his entire body tensing as her fingers worked his hands. “Or how about this?” Suddenly she moved to the left, just enough to hit something that was particularly sore, and there was no stopping Zack’s little gasp. Madam M made a delighted sound at hearing it. “Or maybe _this?”_

And then Zack couldn’t stop himself in time: He moaned, long and drawn out, as pleasure radiated from his palm.

* * *

Aerith was _certain_ this was a bad idea. As Madam M practically dragged Zack away, she almost wished that she had stopped them and had offered to take his place, but they had turned the corner before she could say the words.

Now something like regret and another motion, something sharper and more bitter, ate away at her as she waited for Zack to return. The way Madam M had looked at Zack, the flutter of her lashes and her perfect little smirk when she decided to see _‘what Zack was made out of’…_ Aerith’s hands clenched against her thighs.

She _hated_ this.

“Aerith?” Cloud’s voice, a bit stronger than it had been a few minutes ago, snapped her out of her thoughts. “Are you okay?”

She blinked, a bit taken off guard, before managing a smile. “I should be asking _you_ that,” she teased, and then tilted her chin at the potion he was holding. It was mostly empty; faint green splashed against the sides, and the bottle’s thin collar was smudged with pink lipstick. “Is the potion working? Feeling any better?”

“Y – Yeah.” He shrugged, as if embarrassed by the fact. “I’m okay.”

Well, he certainly _sounded_ better. The harsh mako glow in his eyes had also dimmed a bit, and there was more color to his cheeks as well. When he turned to her, there was clarity in his expression.

Clarity… and confusion.

“What happened?” he asked after a pause.

“You don’t remember?”

“Well...” He glanced down at the potion half buried in his generous skirt, and his brow was furrowed in concentration. “I remember the, ah...” His cheeks reddened, and he lightly coughed. “The, ah, Honeybee Inn. But everything else is a little fuzzy,” he admitted. “Where are we, anyway?”

Aerith clasped her hands in her lap, almost like a prayer. “A massage parlor. To get an approval from Madam M,” she explained.

Cloud nodded his understanding. “And Zack?”

Just like that, Aerith’s mood soured. “Guess,” she said bitterly, and jerked her head towards the back room. “ _Apparently,_ Madam M wants to see what he’s made out of -” Cloud wrinkled his nose, “- and now she’s giving him a _hand massage._ When she’s done, she’ll talk to us about approval.”

“A hand massage,” Cloud echoed.

Aerith harshly sighed. “Well, that’s what she _said_ she’d do.”

There was a pause, then: “W – Wait.” Cloud’s eyes widened in alarm. “You… You don’t mean...”

“Don’t even say it, Cloud.” Aerith’s hands tightened on her lap, and she cast the back room an uncharacteristically dark glare. “I don’t want to -”

A moan echoed through the waiting room without warning. The cry of pleasure was long, drawn out, and peaked at its conclusion before it immediately cascaded into another moan. They nearly overlapped. The sound bounced against the walls and slipped down Aerith’s spine; it curled her toes, lifted the small hairs on the back of her neck, sent her heart raising and blood pressure spiking.

A semi-human squeak crawled out of her throat as she launched to her feed, eyes flashing and cheeks blazing. “He’s – _He’s_ -”

Another moan spilled through waiting room and cut her off.

“Was that...” Cloud’s stammering voice was so quiet that Aerith nearly missed it, and when she turned to him, his face was redder than she had ever seen him. “That, um, sounded like -”

 _“Don’t say it!”_ Aerith pressed the back of her hand against her lips, so hard that the soft skin ground against her teeth. A part of her wanted to storm back there and give them both a piece of her mind, and yet – _and yet –!_

“I can’t listen to this,” she finally decided, and shot Cloud a look that could have peeled paint off of the walls. “Let’s go.”

Cloud got up so quickly that she thought that he’d stumble on his heels, but his balance was somehow perfect. “Where?” he asked, sounding a bit choked.

“Anywhere.” She stomped to the door and grabbed the doorknob, so tightly that its metal dug into her palm. “Just as long as… _shit._ ”

“What?” Cloud stumbled towards her, his dress swishing and brushing about the floor. “What is it?”

She scanned the street, hoping that she was mistaken, but then she saw it again: a shock of bright-red hair that had to be Reno, and that meant that Rude wasn’t too far behind. Worse, they seemed to be walking straight for the massage parlor.

Right towards _them._

Aerith let go of the door handle as if it had burned her. “Hide,” she hissed at Cloud, who only frowned in confusion. She then hurried behind the counter and quickly gestured at him to follow. He made a move to join her -

\- but then his heeled boots caught the front of his dress. His eyes widened in surprise, and then he was falling; his eyes flared for a moment before his hand snapped out to catch the edge of the counter, slowing his descent, but his legs were trapped beneath the skirts. His knees clacked against the tile floor, and with a muttered curse he pushed himself back onto her feet.

 _“Cloud,”_ she murmured as she extended a hand, meaning to help him hide.

But then he did something that she hadn’t been expecting at all. His gaze met hers and he lifted a single finger to his lips, wordlessly asking her to be quiet, for her to trust him. Then he turned away.

Her own words – _Don’t treat him like he’s unwell –_ tasted like bile on her tongue, but she forced herself behind the counter to hide. Wood pressed uncomfortably against the faint ridges of her spine, and she clapped her hands over her mouth to dampen her breathing.

The door jingled as it was opened, and Reno’s voice immediately tore through the waiting room.

 _“You!”_ There was a rustle of fabric, then a stumble of heels clicking against the floor. “You’re Rhodea’s new dancer! I’m a _huge_ fan, by the way. Just saw your first performance.”

“Oh, um…” Cloud’s voice was pitched unnaturally high, and Aerith pressed her lips together to stifle her laughter. “Th – Thank you.”

“So like, how did you get the gig, huh? And why are you here? Getting a massage? Which one would you recommend?” Reno continued, his tirade seemingly endless.

There was another shift of fabric as Cloud took a step back, and she could hear faint clicks as he nervously picked at his nails. “Um, well, I – I just -”

There was a harsh sigh – Reno, Aerith knew – and then the Turk asked, “Ignore this idiot. We’re looking for a man with shoulder-length black hair, slicked back, with a giant sword strapped to his back. He was supposed to join your dance but was declared missing.” There was a lengthy pause. “Have you seen him?”

“I, um...” There was a faint thud as Cloud backed himself against the counter, and she could see the blue of his dress peek from behind the corner. “I haven’t… Rhodea didn’t mention anything like that.”

Cloud sounded so sad about it too, so _sincere,_ that even Aerith almost believed him.

There was a sniff, then: “Gods, Rude! You’re making her cry!”

Aerith’s eyes flew wide.

_What?_

Rude’s response was frantic, and he took a hard step backwards. “I – I didn’t mean to! Um, look, uh, miss… I didn’t mean to offend, I just -”

“What the fuck are _you_ two doing here?” came a new voice, and then Madam M swept into the waiting room like a storm. She didn’t even glance at Aerith, huddled as she was beneath the front counter. “Are you bothering my esteemed customers?”

Rude made a noise low in his throat, one that sounded like either annoyance or appreciation. “N – No, I just asked her a question, and -”

“My apologies,” Reno smoothly cut in. “My partner was being a dick, but I was hoping to ask -”

Madam M made a disgusted sound. “If you are not customers, then _leave!_ You _dare_ come in here and waste my time? Huh?! I should have you _shot!_ ” There was a _thwap_ as her fan connected with something solid, followed by Reno’s shrill yelp. “Let me tell _you_ that while you Turks may run lose on the upper plates, but this is _my_ establishment and I will _not_ have you disturb it! Now _out!_ ”

There were loud footsteps and shuffling as the two Turks were forced out the door, followed by Reno’s loud cursing and Rude’s grunts, but then the door chimes sang together and silence descended on the waiting room once again.

Madam M loud sigh was the first to break the sudden peace. “Well,” she began with a tired tone, “you can come out now.”

Aerith jumped to her feet, momentarily forgetting that Madam M was there at all. “Cloud!” she cried, running over to the man in question. He turned to her, surprised… and completely dry-eyed, to her relief. “Are you okay?”

“Y – Yeah?” He sounded confused. “I’m fine?”

“But you sounded like – Were you _crying?_ ” Aerith sputtered.

Cloud’s eyes widened a fraction, but then he laughed; a dry, nearly brittle, beautiful sound. “I was _faking_. Don’t worry, I’m fine.”

Aerith nearly asked Cloud where he learned to do that, but she decided to save it for another time; there were more important things right now. “Are you _sure_ you’re fine?”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod, then glanced towards the door. A shadow flickered across his expression. “They really thought I was a girl, though. Even up close.”

Madam M blinked at him. “You’re not?”

Color singed Cloud’s cheeks. _“No!”_

“Oh.” Madam M hid her growing smile behind her fan. “My apologies. Your costume is… _very_ convincing.”

Cloud glared at her and opened his mouth to say something, but then shook his head and sat back down. “Never mind,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Forget it. Say whatever you want; I don’t care anymore.”

“As long as that’s okay with you, _Miss Cloud,”_ Aerith giggled.

Cloud looked towards the window, scowling and brow furrowed, and pointedly didn’t reply.

A faint noise from the hallway drew Aerith’s attention, and she turned to see Zack giving them all a confused look – but also a _dreamy_ look,she also noted with a flash of anger

“Did I miss something?” he asked.

Aerith’s earlier annoyance singed her veins, and she crossed her arms over her chest with a frown. “You tell me.”

“What?” Concern now colored his tone. “What’s wrong? What happened? ...And why are you looking at me like that?”

 _So he won’t say anything, huh?_ She turned towards the window, her frown deepening. “No reason.”

Madam M chuckled from behind her fan; but at _what_ she found so amusing, Aerith couldn’t say. “Well,” the masseuse said, “as promised, let us discuss the terms of your approval.” There was a teasing edge to her tone, one that had Aerith’s mood souring “I will _happily_ procure your gown, due to how – well, how do I put this? - how _wonderful_ my client was.”

Aerith’s expression went stormy, and she turned to Madam M. “ _Excuse_ me?”

“Well – how do I put this? His hands were a _joy_ to work with, and I look forward to working with them again… if my client so desires.”

“His _hands?”_ Aerith repeated.

“Well, yeah,” Zack replied. Confusion decorated his tone. “Aerith, it was a hand massage… and Cloud, why are you so red?”

Cloud, who had been staring at the exchange, suddenly dropped his gaze and muttered something under his breath, something that Aerith couldn’t hear.

Zack, on the other hand, suddenly look mortified. “I was loud?” he repeated, and then turned to Aerith with wide eyes. “Was I? What does that mean? What did I say?”

Aerith glared at him. “You didn’t say _anything,_ ” she said, and then stomped over to Cloud and sat directly beside him, legs crossed at the knees and arms crossed over her chest. “Think about what you’ve done for a minute.”

“But I don’t even know what I _did!”_

She turned towards the window. “Then think harder,” she told him.

That was the end of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter 🤣 I had far too much fun writing it lololol
> 
> This chapter was a bit on the slower/ more humorous side, but we'll pick up the pace next chapter! This is Wall Market, after all - we all know what's coming 😉
> 
> Until next time: Stay well, stay safe, and I wish you all the best 💙
> 
>  _And my usual shameless plug_ 😅  
> Feel free to follow [my twitter](https://twitter.com/Rand0mSmil3z) if you'd like to stay updated on my writing schedule and see chapter previews! You can find a link to my ko-fi there too if you'd like to support my work 💙 But there's absolutely no pressure to do so; if you're happy with the story, then I'm happy 😊


	24. Buttons and Blackouts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thursday! I hope you're having a good week so far 😊
> 
> First off, _big thank you_ to everyone who has donated to my Ko-Fi and has left comments on the chapters 💙 You guys are the best group of readers, and I'm so happy that I can write for such an amazing, kind group. Seeing those notifications is honestly so motivating, especially when this have been so chaotic on my end 🥰
> 
> That said, this chapter is _finally_ done! It's a bit shorter than usual, but that's only because we're going to have to cover a lot of ground in the next chapter. You'll see what I mean when we get there 😊
> 
> Enjoy! 🌸
> 
> PS: Shoutout to [silver_doe287](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_doe287) for being the best beta reader, as usual 🥰

Cloud wished that he was anywhere but here.

After Zack had returned from his hand massage – _or whatever it was,_ Cloud thought – Madam M had dragged everyone to the back of the parlor while she took Aerith's measurements. She didn't want anyone else disturbing them since Reno and Rude's appearance, and the back room she had him and Zack wait in was a strange mixture of an office and a storage room.

Unlike the rest of the massage parlor, the storage room did not have any expensive lanterns or vases against the walls, and there were no fountains bubbling in the corner. Crystals did not glitter beneath hanging lanterns, soft music didn't waft from a hidden speaker, and the decorations were few and far between. In fact, the room was modest; it could have even been considered to be bare.

But that didn't mean that it wasn't comfortable. A worn loveseat had made a home against one of the walls, and there was a small electric kettle on the coffee table. The nearby desk was simple and the bookshelf beside it, though full of weathered massaging textbooks and steamy romance novels, was clean and organized.

In fact, the only truly expensive item Cloud could make out was the jade figurine resting on the desk. The green crystal had been carved into a twisting dragon; _Leviathan,_ he immediately recognized. He hadn't seen the deity of Wutai since the Wutai War, and Shinra had banned any and all forms of the relic on the land that they controlled. Of course, Shinra couldn't possibly hope to actually enforce such a law, but the point was made loud and clear: Wutai culture – or at least, the parts of it that Shinra did not agree with – was not welcome here.

It was a bit sad, and so Cloud moved his gaze towards the bookshelf instead. A small, framed photograph was leaning against an old cookbook. Smiling faces shown back from the black-and-white picture, and it took him a moment to realize that that was Madam M's _family._ Sure enough, he soon recognized her amongst the crowd; she was standing near the front, her hands resting on the shoulder's of a young boy, and her smile was dazzling.

 _She looks happy,_ Cloud thought, and then wondered: _Why isn't she with her family?_

But then he recalled the Wutai War, and decided not to follow that line of thought any further. The answers waiting there were too sad, too bitter, and hit too close to home, so instead he glanced at Zack.

Zack, unsurprisingly, was doing squats in the middle of the floor. His arms swung out dramatically with every up-and-down movement, and his brows were furrowed in concentration with every repetition. But it was his hands that had caught Cloud's attention. Like sure, they _looked_ softer, and his nails had been manicured…

 _So he probably, actually, got a hand massage,_ Cloud decided. Aerith would be happy to hear that, at least. She sounded pretty upset earlier.

"So, Cloud." Zack's voice snagged Cloud's attention. "Tell me honestly. How loud was I, really? Like, _loud_ loud? Or like, if you strained, you could hear… me?"

Zack's cheeked were flushed slightly, and Cloud could feel his neck heat up as well. He'd rather never have to discuss that again, and he turned away, if only so that he didn't have to look at Zack's expression. " _Loud_ loud," he stated matter-of-factly, so they could stop talking about it. Like, he was _already_ trying to forcibly eject the sound of Zack's… Zack's _moaning_ from his memory, but every time Zack brought it up…

"But like, _how_ loud?" Zack asked, huffing. "Like, how loud is _loud_ loud?"

"Loud enough that everyone heard you and Aerith wanted to leave."

"She… What?" Zack paused, knees still bent mid-squat. He looked startled, _scared_ even, like he had just bitten into a piece of fruit only to realize that it was rotten. "She wanted to leave?"

 _We almost did,_ Cloud thought, but kept that thought to himself given Zack's stricken expression. "Well, it was more like… like you were doing something else besides, um, a hand massage." He nearly winced at his poor choice of words. "If that makes sense."

Zack's brow furrowed. "Something else besides a hand massage?" he echoed, horribly confused. "What is that supposed to… _Oh._ " His expression suddenly lit up in realization, only to immediately revert into abject horror. "Oh. So it, uh, sounded like _that,_ huh?"

"Like _that,_ " Cloud affirmed, and he had a hard time meeting Zack's eyes. Like yeah, some of his bunk mates back in the infantry would talk about how they _did the deed_ with their civilian partners, which he had no problem with. But it was one thing to just listen in on a conversation about it and quite another to, well, _listen in._

Heat burned Cloud's cheeks, and he averted his gaze to the wall.

Zack made an almost pained sound. "Not you too!" he cried, sitting upright. "Look, what can I possibly do to make things better?"

"Nothing," Cloud said quickly, but he didn't turn away from the wall. "You're fine."

But Zack wasn't listening. "Look, what if I dress up as a girl too? Would that help?"

"No!" _Why would he even get that idea?!_ "Look, you're fine, Zack. Don't worry about it."

"No, no, I'll do it. I'll swear I'll do it. How about…" Zack's gaze flicked across the room before landing on the wardrobe, and his entire expression lit up. "Madam M wouldn't mind, right?"

It took a moment for Cloud to realize what Zack was implying, but as soon as he did… "Zack, _no!_ You – You wouldn't fit in her dresses," he sputtered. "Besides, we already _have_ a plan. I'm already in… in costume, and Aerith is getting fitted for _her_ dress, and then we're going to audition to meet up with Tifa. So you can, uh -"

"Sit this one out?" Zack finished, and Cloud ducked his head towards the floor. That was _exactly_ what he had been about to say, though maybe in a more round-about, wordy way. Zack's loud _huff_ echoed through the room, and he continued, "Sorry Spikey, but I can't let you and Aerith have all the fun. Not after everything we've been through together, and _especially_ not right after we're all together again."

Tifa's face flashed across Cloud's mind, and he thought with a pang, _Well, we're_ _ **almost**_ _all together again_.

"And besides," Zack continued as he opened the dresser, "once Aerith is fitted, then I'll be the only one without a dress! I'll feel left out!"

"That's – That's stupid!" Cloud somehow managed to get back on his feet as well. His heels still stung a bit, but someone – Zack, he figured – had bandaged them when he had still been out of it after his dance. "Zack, we can't all wear -"

"Ooh!" With a flurry, Zack suddenly pulled a dress out of Madam M's wardrobe. "How about this one?" The dress that Zack had selected was various shades of black and gray, with delicate pink bows adding splashes of color and also cinching the waists and ruffles flaring at every curve.

That said, it was also _small._

"It's perfect," Zack declared as he held the dress up to himself. It was clearly meant to brush against the floor, but on Zack's figure, it barely reached mid-calf. The sleeves also looked like they would pinch in places, and as for the waist…

Cloud shook his head. "There's no way," he said. "There's just no way."

"Aw, don't say that, Spikey!" To Cloud's horror, Zack was already undoing his SOLDIER uniform's belts. The pants were the next to go and then his ribbed vest, until he was standing in the center of the room in absolutely nothing but his boxers.

His body was covered in scars. Silvery lines crisscrossed his chest and back like a grotesque game of tic-tac-toe. Claws traced his spine in deep grooves, a single streak cut across his chest, but what had Cloud going cold were the smaller scars. The ones that were hardly noticeable. They were the scars that mirrored his own; they marked out vital organs in need of enhancing, needle pricks where the mako drips had gone in, faint cuts where the scalpels had -

Pain lanced through Cloud's skull, and his sharp inhale whistled through his teeth.

"Cloud?" Zack was in front of him in a moment, one leg still trapped in the too-small dress, and if Cloud's head wasn't throbbing he just might have laughed. "You okay, bud? Lost you for a second."

Cloud shook his head. "Fine," he replied. "Just… Thought I remembered something, but I guess not."

A shadow passed across Zack's expression; but only for a moment, and then a small grin curved his lips. "And here I thought a glimpse of my perfect physique took your breath away," he teased.

"You wish," Cloud retorted, but a small smile had his lips curving as well. "Also," he added, unable to help himself, "you look ridiculous."

Zack's grin widened. "Just wait until I'm fully in this thing," he said. "Undo the back for me?"

"You're going to break it," Cloud told him, but he started to undo the tight buttons anyway. His fingers trembled against the ivory clasps and the buttons fumbled in his grip, but he was slowly able to undo them, one by one. "What if it rips?" he asked, if only to stave the silence. "What if you break it, and we gotta pay for it?"

Zack grinned, even though his expression looked a little pinched as he hiked the skirt up. "It's not gonna break, I promise… ah, would you mind pulling up the top? It's stuck."

Cloud loudly exhaled. " _Zack._ "

"It's fine, it's fine! Look." Zack grunted as he hiked the skirt up higher. "We both knew that this – this was gonna be a tight squeeze, yeah? But think about how _good_ I'm gonna look in it. I mean, black really is my color."

Cloud just about snorted. "Right. And suck in a little bit," he ordered. "I gotta rebutton everything now."

Zack nearly winced. "You sure?"

"Yes."

"Am I supposed to hold my breath the entire time I'm wearing this dumb thing?"

"You tell me," Cloud told him, and then forced the first button shut. Zack practically gasped. "This was _your_ idea."

"F – Fine. Yeah, I know. Just… Just… Just give me a sec here." Zack painfully shoved one arm through the sleeve, which made a suspicious ripping sound that had them all freezing, before he carefully pushed his arm through the other. It looked painfully tight, and his face seemed a bit flushed by the time it was over. "Ramuh smite me, just how tiny is Madam M?"

Cloud leveled him with a look. "Don't look to me for sympathy," he told him. "You have no one to blame but yourself."

Zack winced. "I mean, you're right, but… _damn._ You've gotten cold, you know that?"

"Have not. And also," Cloud added as he inspected the back of the dress, "there's _no way_ I'll be able to button this thing on you."

Zack tried to turn around, and then thought better of it. "Seriously?"

"Yeah." The black material had been straining _before_ Zack had shoved his arms through the sleeves, but now the seams – and everything connected to them – looked about ready to split. The fabric groaned with strain, the waist was stretched to the point of bursting, and now that Cloud was _really_ looking at everything…

"Are you sure you'll be able to take it off?" Cloud asked.

Zack scoffed, but it sounded more like a wheeze. "Of _course_ I'll be able to take it off," he replied, with a tone as if Cloud was silly for even suggesting such a thing. "I'm a SOLDIER First Class, and if I can take out a _Midgar Zolom -"_ he grunted as he hiked the skirt up a bit higher, "-and a _Nibel Dragon-"_ there was a distinctive tearing sound, but he didn't seem to notice, "then I can put on this _stupid dress._ "

With that, he blindly reached behind him to clasp the first button himself, but the movement proved to be too much for the delicate bust. Something popped, and before Cloud could blink, one of the buttons flew across the room and pinged against the decorative glass lamp. The hollow sound echoed through the room as the lamp tottered precariously, and as Zack moved forward on instinct to catch it, his legs pulled against the skirt. Something tore. His eyes widened, and then the entire back burst open and sent the rest of the buttons flying. He fell to the floor with a startled, high-pitched squeal, and with that, the lamp fell down on top of him.

And Cloud couldn't help it – it was _hilarious._

A small laugh bubbled out of his throat. The laugh was rusty and wavered in the air, raw and trembling, and it quivered against the walls like an out of tune song. But it was _there,_ and another quickly joined it, and then another and another, until he was doubled over laughing outright, tears in his eyes and sides aching from the fit.

He didn't even notice that Zack was staring at him, slacked jawed and misty eyed, until he smiled and began to laugh; and not just a little bit, either, but _hysterically._ It was as if something had torn open inside of him, and there was nothing he could do _but_ laugh.

"It's not _that_ funny," Zack said, the moment he had managed to catch his breath.

Cloud wiped his eyes, though he was unable to wipe the smile off his face. "It was a _little_ funny." He chuckled a bit, unable to stop himself, as he glanced over the dress. "Guess you did break it after all."

"Guess I did," Zack grinned. He didn't seem apologetic in the slightest. "Looks like I owe Madam M a new dress."

"I agree," came a displeased voice by the door, and both of the boys' smiles slipped. "You _do_ owe me a new dress, as well as an…" Madam M paused, lips pursed and holding her fan as if she wasn't sure whether to fan herself or hit something with it. "…An _explanation_ for whatever is occurring right now. Go on," she added delicately as she turned to each of them in turn. Her words dripped like poison. "I'll wait."

Cloud swallowed thickly and dropped his gaze to the floor. Suddenly felt like he was ten years old and his mother just caught him doing something that he shouldn't have. It was a strange, conflicting feeling – _especially_ considering his current attire.

"I, uh, um..." Zack's stammering filled the gaps between them. "Well, uh..."

Madam M's gaze narrowed. "Spit it out, or I will _make_ you."

"Uhhh..." There was a pause, then suddenly Zack pointed at Cloud and said, "He started it."

Cloud's head snapped up. "I did not! It – It was Zack's idea!"

"I don't care _whose_ idea is was," Madam M snapped, which had both boys going silent. "You will _both_ will clean up this mess. _And,_ " she added, focusing on Zack, "for the goddess' sake, you're an _ex-SOLDIER,_ not a door mat. Pick yourself off the floor and take off that hideous dress, _please._ "

"Uh, yes ma'am," Zack replied as he slowly pushed himself upright, which was a bit awkward considering how he was tangled up in bits of ripped satin. "Um..."

"What?" Madam M snapped.

"I, uh, can't take it off."

"What do you mean, you -"

Cloud snorted, but quickly hid it with a cough when Madam M glared at him.

"I'll help you take it off." Aerith's voice floating down the hallway, and then a moment, she was suddenly at the door.

And she was stunning. She had been fitted into a striking red dress, one that cascaded to the floor before breaking out in flashy rivulets, and also had a daring slit that showed off her long legs. Her hair had been done up high with a graceful, waterfalling red bow, and her makeup made her look simply gorgeous.

"Also," she added with the faint quirk of her red lips, "I think we can _all_ agree that I look the best in a ball grown."

Zack, who had been staring unabashedly, now blinked into sudden awareness and he took a step towards her, the mako in his gaze burning bright and hot. "Oh, I don't know about that," he replied in a teasing tone. "Cloud might give you a run for your money."

Cloud turned back to the wall and wished that they'd just leave him out of their conversations. He felt like the third wheel enough as it was. "Keep me out of it," he told them. "I don't care."

"He's jealous," Aerith giggled, which had Cloud's ears burning.

"I am _not._ "

"He's jealous," Zack agreed, but then paused. The pause was dragged out, one second at a time, before he murmured under his breath, "You're beautiful." Another appreciative pause. "I don't think I tell you that enough… but you are. Really"

Cloud could hear the blush in Aerith's voice. "You think so?"

"I know so," he replied adamantly, then grinned and added, "Almost as beautiful as _me_ in a dress."

Aerith laughed, but her laugh was cut off by Madam M loudly clearing her throat. "Well, now that we got _that_ vomit-inducing display out of the way," she said, which had Zack frowning, "we can finally move on. Zack, you're with me. You need new attire as well to go to Corneo's manor, and it just so happens that Andrea sent something over. Not that you deserve it, seeing that you destroyed a dress of mine."

Zack had the decency to look sheepish. "Sorry."

"Not sorry enough," Madam M said simply, but dropped the conversation. "Now hurry it up. I don't have all day, and you've wasted enough of my time as it is."

"But I can't get out of -"

"I'll cut it off of you."

Zack blanched. "You'll what now?"

"You heard me. And if you want me to be gentle about it, then you best be moving. _Now!"_ she practically shouted and Zack Fair, a battle-hardened SOLDIER, practically ran down the hall, tattered skirts and all.

* * *

Wall Market was busy at night. The main road was clogged with people, and loud shouts cascaded over the road. Many whistles and slurs were especially directed towards Cloud and Aerith, as they were by far the best dressed out of anyone out walking right now.

Well – the best dressed with the exception of Zack, of course.

"I look ridiculous." Zack awkwardly tugged at his bowtie as he escorted Cloud and Aerith to Don Corneo's mansion. "I mean, _look_ at me."

Cloud had to turn away to keep from smiling – he couldn't risk creasing his lipstick again, not after the lecture Madam M had given him when he had smudged it earlier. Zack looked a _little_ bit silly; maybe not as silly as being dolled up in a frilly dress, of course, but it was definitely a bit jarring to see the ex-SOLDIER dressed up in a formal tuxedo. There wasn't a speck of dust on his sheer black suit and pants, and his similarly dark shoes had been shined until Cloud could see his eyeshadow in their reflection.

But the most striking piece of Zack's attire was, by far, the masquerade mask shadowing his face. The mask had been formed into the shape of a wolf, and its severe, cutting expression was matched only by Zack's pointed frown.

"I look like I'm playing dress-up," Zack complained.

Aerith hung onto his arm, and her flawless scarlet dress spilled across the floor. "Just like the rest of us," she quipped. "And weren't you the one who wanted to wear a dress? How is a suit _worse?_ "

"I don't know!" Zack tugged at the collar, his lips pursed in dissatisfaction. "The dress felt more like a joke, you know? Like, it was _funny._ This feels more… I don't know, like I'm trying too hard. Like it's too _serious,_ if that makes sense."

Cloud rolled his eyes.

"Zack," Aerith stated, "you are many things, but _serious_ isn't one of them."

"I can too be serious," Zack said, and then grinned. "I am _seriously in love,_ for example."

Aerith laughed. "That was bad, even from you."

"I got worse, if you wanna -"

"Can we just focus?" Cloud's tone was almost pleading. "We're almost to the mansion, and we have to -"

His heel suddenly dipped into a crack in a cobblestone, and with a breathless gasp he was suddenly pitching forward – but then he was being pulled back, almost before he realized that he was falling.

Zack's grip tightened on his forearm, and his smirk was just barely visible beneath the wolf's metal snout. "I got you, honey."

Cloud made a face. "Really?" he asked. Someone nearby whistled.

Zack's grin widened. "I'm just playing my role," he replied, which had Aerith giggling. Cloud shot her a look; she hadn't seemed to stop laughing since they left Madam M's place, particularly when Madam M had ordered Zack to _escort the lovely ladies to Corneo_. "I mean, you wanted me to focus, right? I can show you _focused._ "

Cloud's expression soured further, but he wasn't sure what to say. After all, he was _supposed_ to be a girl right now, and Zack was _supposed_ to be escorting him and Aerith. This was all part of the act; in fact, it was the culmination of all their efforts – from meeting Chocobo Sam to dancing on the stage for Rhodea to freeing Zack from the Turks, to meeting Madam M for her approval. All that was left was _this_ ; walking to Corneo's mansion, auditioning, and somehow freeing Tifa.

And it was _his plan._ Aerith had helped of course, but the idea, the _drive,_ was all his own. If he wanted to prove to everyone that he wasn't just sick and helpless, that he _could_ fight, then he had to just deal with being the fragile, helpless ward for now. He just had to bear with it a little longer, until Tifa was safe… Then everything would be okay again.

Keeping that thought firmly lodged in his mind, he swallowed his sigh and allowed his arm to remain intertwined with Zack's, like the good potential bride he was supposed to be. Aerith hung onto Zack's other side elegantly, gracefully, and completely naturally. She smiled at the people who stared for a little too long, giggled when someone whistled, smiled at Zack when he murmured something to her. Cloud couldn't do _all_ of that, but maybe – just maybe – he could find it within him to stop scowling.

 _For Tifa,_ he reminded himself, and he tried to keep his expression as pleasant as possible as the three of them strode beneath the red lanterns that marked Corneo's mansion. _I can do it for her._ They crossed the bridge and approached the mansion's front door, and he even attempted to smile at one of the guards. _And even if I can't,_ he thought as the mansion's grand doors wept open, _I have to._

The three of them crossed the threshold, and Cloud knew that there was no turning back now.

He recognized Leslie immediately. The silver-haired man stood with his arms crossed over his chest and held an air of stark indifference around him, while two other men glowered at his side. Upon seeing the three of them, Leslie's eyes narrowed and he shifted his weight slightly, as if preparing for a fight.

It was only when they drew closer that Leslie's expression shifted entirely. "No way," he murmured, and shook his head as if he were trying to shake away a mirage. "There's just no way."

Zack cleared his throat, drawing the attention back towards himself. "Here you are," he said as he drew two letters out of his inner coat pocket. "These are letters from both Andrea Rhodea and Madam M regarding the two… candidates."

Zack's tone had a distinct authority to it, the sort that could only be hammered in by SOLDIER training, and the two guards standing at Leslie's side took a small step backwards at the sound of it. But there was something else buried within his tone as well, something that took Cloud a moment to place:

Disdain. Absolute raw disdain, and it took all of Cloud's willpower to not glance up at Zack and ask what was wrong – because _something_ was definitely wrong, and it made Cloud nervous to not know what.

Leslie, to his credit, remained rooted in place despite Zack's frigid tone. Apparently he still hadn't gotten over his initial shock, because he shook his head against and said, "You serious?"

"Is there a problem?" Zack enunciated.

"No," Leslie replied with a faint sigh, and then stepped away from the doors. Turning to Aerith and Cloud, he added, "I hope you two know what you're in for."

Zack's expression hardened. "They do."

Leslie humphed, and the doors were forced open.

The room beyond was a simple corridor, one that reminded Cloud of a zen garden more than anything else. Water fountains bubbled beside a tiled walkway and lanterns, far more ornate than the simple paper ones outside, stained the path a deep, bloody red.

Aerith inhaled deeply at his side. "We'll be fine," she said to no one in particular, and then she walked forward without looking back. That was part of the act as well; after all, this was supposed to be a business transaction, and he and Aerith were the goods. Nothing more, and nothing less.

Cloud's heels clicked against the tiles as he followed Aerith, and he could practically feel Zack's worried stare boring into the back of their heads until the door slammed shut behind them.

Only then did Aerith allow herself to glance over her shoulder. Her expression was somewhat sad as she murmured, "Guess this is it, huh?"

Cloud's mouth had gone dry, and all he could do was nod.

The next door, the one that led into the main manor, seemed to open of its own accord once they got close. It spilled into a grand two-story room, one that had been painted a gaudy red and was lined with doorways on both floors. An intricate stairway connected the two floors, and large jade vases, branching coral, and other oddities and paintings were scattered across the floor.

If Cloud had glanced upward, he would have noticed the ceiling's golden mural, a pretty piece that depicted angels, light, and redemption. Yet his gaze remained straight ahead, and so he only saw the two guards waiting for them. They were dressed in black leather, the sort that conformed tightly to the body, and their eyes freely roamed Cloud and Aerith's forms. They were smirking.

Cloud shifted his weight and clasped his hands in front of him, distinctly uncomfortable. Aerith scooted a little closer to his side.

"The two of you here for the audition?" the nearest one asked.

 _Obviously,_ Cloud nearly replied, but caught himself at the last moment. "Yes."

"Second floor, at the very end of the walk," the man continued. "And don't go pokin' yer nose in where it doesn't belong, you hear?"

"Clearly," Aerith muttered.

"And remember, you can't afford a single thing in this place, so don't break shit," the other guard added as they began ascending the stairs. "Don't wanna make your stay any worse, now dontcha?"

Aerith shot Cloud a long look and mouthed, _"Let's make sure we break something, okay?"_

Cloud nodded, and they made their way to the opposite room. Both he and Aerith had small daggers strapped to their thighs, and Cloud took comfort in its subtle weight as they stepped into the room.

He was immediately taken aback by how _shabby_ it looked compared to the rest of the mansion. The walls were a sickly pale shade, the floor was in clear disrepair, and a thick layer of dust covered the boxes and other objects that had been shoved against the walls. Cobwebs were draped across the rusted chandelier like a silken curtain. Dust danced in the air. Cloud immediately noticed that there were no windows, but there _were_ strange vents mounted towards the ceiling.

 _Maybe for fresh air,_ he wondered.

"Well." Aerith stepped delicately across the floor, nose wrinkled in distaste. " _This_ isn't creepy at all."

Cloud ran his fingers against one of the nearby statues, and a thick layer of dust coated his fingertips. Strangely enough, the entire room smelled _sweet_ somehow, like incense that had been burning for too long.

He frowned as the dust drifted off his fingertips like snow. "Something isn't right," he finally said, and glanced at Aerith. "I think we should lea-"

The door slammed shut behind them.

Cloud's eyes widened a fraction. _No._ He started for the door, chest constricting, as he knew: _It's a trap._

"What's that weird, sweet smell?" Aerith suddenly asked behind him, and Cloud glanced at her just in time to see her sway. "And why do I feel so _dizzy..._ "

 _The vents,_ he realized with a curse. "Aerith," he began, but then it hit him, too. A sickly sweet scent flooded his senses and, suddenly lightheaded, he stumbled into the nearby statue. His fingers clawed against its glassy surface as he fought to stay upright. "Gas," he managed to choke out. "We need to get…" The world grew blurry around the edges, and he tried to blink the fuzz away. "We need…"

Images suddenly danced in front of his eyes.

_"Gas," Zack murmured. His hand was tight around Cloud's bicep as he hauled the smaller man to his feet, and Cloud clung to that little fragment of stability like a drowning man clinging to a raft. His fingers scrambled for purchase even as the world rocked and swayed around him. "It's okay, Cloud," Zack continued, his voice rough and raw. "The exit's just a little further. Just a little further, and then -"_

The image cut away without warning, and Cloud gasped – and immediately regretted it, as that sickly sweet gas filled his lungs. His lungs spasmed and then he was coughing, gasping for clean air that wasn't there, his chest futility expanding against a tight corset. He wasn't sure when he had fallen onto his knees. He wasn't sure when he had sagged against the statue. The world spun sickeningly around him and his stomach twisted, threatening to spill what little he had eaten for dinner. The room shifted in an out of focus.

Yet all he could think of was, _I'm going to get my dress dirty._

A red smudge shifted in front of him – _Aerith,_ he realized – and then he was fumbling to get back upright. "Aerith," he managed, "you – you gotta -"

"Cloud…." He could dimly make out Aerith reaching for him. The tips of her fingers were trembling, and he blindly stretched his hand out towards her.

 _This is like when Tifa fell back then,_ his mind supplied.

He stretched his hand out further, just as a door slammed open somewhere behind him. Muffled laughter echoed through the room, but Cloud didn't notice. He didn't notice until there were hands suddenly _grabbing_ him, and -

\- _and then the lab assistants were pulling him off the floor, their disappointment obvious as they told him that he should have built up a far higher tolerance to the poison by now -_

 _-_ and Cloud snatched his arm away, breathing hard, every breath sending the world turning and swaying and shifting beneath him. "Don't touch me," he practically snarled -

_\- and the lab assistants pulled something out of their pocket, something that Cloud couldn't quite make out. His imagination more than made up for it however, and then he was trying to crawl away, trying to get away from them. His body felt impossibly heavy and his head felt impossibly light. He needed to find Zack… Zack was just here, wasn't he? Where was -_

"Sorry princess," a voice said, as if from a great distance, "but you ain't going nowhere." Hands grabbed him and were hauling him to his feet, forcing him to stand and _go_ somewhere, and terror gripped him. He didn't want to go. It would be somewhere bad, and he knew with icy certainty that he _couldn't go back there._ He would rather _die_ that return to that place… wherever it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeahhhh... sorry about that cliffhanger lol, but I needed to end the story somewhere! And that just happened to be the place to do it 😅 At least you have a lot to look forward to next chapter, right? I mean, you've all played the game - the gang will finally be back together! I'm so excited to finally write that, it feels like it's been forever since I split everyone up 🥰
> 
> Anyway, shameless plug time, feel free to follow [my twitter](https://twitter.com/Rand0mSmil3z) for story updates and chapter previews! Links to my Ko-Fi page can also be found there if you'd like to support my writing, but there's absolutely no pressure to do so - if you're enjoying the story, that's honestly enough for me 😊
> 
> Until next time: Stay well, stay safe, and I wish you all the best 💙


	25. Smoke and Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday everyone! I hope you all had a good week 🌸
> 
> Thank you, as always, for all of the kudos and comments! I must say this every time but I really do appreciate all of the support - it's not easy to dedicate time to writing such a long story, but you all make it fun 😊 
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!
> 
> PS: Shoutout to [silver_doe287](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_doe287) for being the best beta reader, as usual 🌸
> 
> PPS: I've gotten the rare complaint that I didn't do the coliseum, so I'll explain why I didn't (it makes sense, trust me) and what I'm planning on doing _instead_ in the end notes. I think you all will enjoy what I have planned 😊

There were three different types of quiet, and Tifa was familiar with all of them.

The first was the gentle silence that could be found between the sunlit valleys of Nibelheim and within the flickering light of a lonely campfire. There was a comfort within its quiet, a sweet nostalgia that stung the heart, and she wrapped it around herself like armor.

The second type of silence was a bit different. It could be found between the pages of family albums she did not own, beneath the floorboards of a house that had long since burned down, and upon the bloodstains on her hands that had long since been scrubbed clean. She heard it in the slum playground, after mothers and fathers would corral their children home. Later she would find that same silence within the dregs of a forgotten drink. The slums were never silent but there was a quiet, lonely place within herself, the kind filled with the gentle memories her heart did not pity her enough to forget, and she would sink into it much like a broken ship sinks into the sea: to be filled.

But there is also a third type of silence, and it was this kind that weighed heavily against her now. It permeated the air within the storage room Corneo’s men had thrown her in. It was embedded into every old wine stain and every broken bottle, and she could see it within the fingernail scratches on the door knob. Its echo surrounded her. It didn’t matter if she screamed; no one would hear, and so the silence was even heavier. It could not be broken.

As Tifa tried to open the same scratched door yet again, dread sank deep in her gut and settled there as a stone of anxiety, regret, and second thoughts. _How many others?_ she found herself wondering as the door knob jangled in her hand. _How many girls had Corneo…_

But she cut that thought off with a firm shake of her head. _Now’s not the time,_ she reminded herself.She hadn’t expected to be drugged, but nevertheless, she had successfully infiltrated Corneo’s mansion. Now she had to find a way out of this cellar, get to Corneo’s office, and look for any information on Cloud and Barret’s bounty.

 _And then I’ll head back to Seventh Heaven._ She ran a hand along the wall, hoping for some sort of secret entrance or weak point. _Maybe… Maybe Cloud managed to find his way back by now._ She ignored the fact that if he never made it off of the upper plate, that meant it was more likely he was either captured or dead. Yes, she ignored that fact entirely. _And when I get back, we can go into hiding until the bounty blows over…_

Without warning, the door was thrown open and she – despite all her resolve – went still as fear trilled through her, high and shrill.

“Back to the wall,” came a gruff voice. She recognized the voice as belonging to one of Corneo’s henchmen, and after a moment she did as she was told. But she also balanced lightly on her toes. She centered her gravity as the door was pushed open a little wider, and her breath whistled between her teeth. The _moment_ they brought in the next girl – there were supposed to be three candidates, after all – she would take out the guards and then follow through with her plan.

Grim resolve soothed her frayed nerves, and she clenched her jaw. _As soon as their back is turned,_ she decided, and slowly drew one foot out behind her. _As soon as they turn their back, I’ll -_

But then she saw a tuft of unruly, spiky blond hair, and all of her planning screeched to a halt.

_Cloud._

The guards carried him inside. He was unconscious, undoubtedly from the same pink gas she had been subjected to, and though he was wearing a dress and had been dolled up in makeup, she recognized him immediately. Silvery eyeshadow graced his eyelids while mascara lengthened his already long eyelashes, and his parted lips had been painted a rosy red. Yet beneath all the foundation and blush and color, he still somehow managed to look like _Cloud_.

 _But… But how is he…_ A second guard carried in another woman, one who was wearing a daring scarlet dress that looked far more expensive than her own assemble, but she hardly noticed. _He’s… here?_

She resisted the urge to rapidly blink, just in case the gas had affected her more than she had thought and she was now vividly hallucinating.

“Gotta be gentle with ‘em,” the second guard, the one carrying the woman in red, was saying. “They’re Corneo’s, after all.”

“Only one is Corneo’s,” Cloud’s guard replied. This one had a closely shaved head and dark eyes, the type that reminded her of a shark. “The rest are ours, once Corneo’s through with them. And personally,” he added with a sharp smile, “I’m hoping that he won’t choose the blondie.”

 _Blondie?_ Tifa thought, and then realized: _He means Cloud._ Her hands itched to form fists. For a moment she contemplated knocking them out, but she forced the spark of rage to cool. She’d have her moment. She’d have her justice.

She just had to be patient first.

“You like the blondie?” the guard replied. He glanced towards her, and Tifa forced her tight expression to smooth. “I like the dark-haired one myself. Speakin’ of, how are you doin’, missy?” His lips pulled back in a sneer, and she saw that his teeth – the few that remained, at any rate – were brown. “Holdin’ up all right?”

A tic worked in her jaw, but she gently replied,“I’m okay.”

“Sorry about knockin’ you out earlier. Don’t want any trouble, you see.”

 _Too late for that,_ she thought, but instead said, “I understand.”

The guard’s rotted smile widened. “Good. We’ll come back down soon to collect the three of you, once the other two -” he waved a vague hand towards Cloud and the other woman, “- wake up an’ all.”

“Then Corneo can pick one of you out,” the first guard added with a dark chuckle. “Gonna be interesting to see which one he picks. Can’t say I’d be displeased by any choice, to be honest. See this as a win-win situation myself.”

Tifa didn’t trust herself with a calm reply, so instead she flicked her eyes back towards her boots and said nothing. The man chuckled at her submission before he inclined his head to the other guard, and they both began to head out of the room. She counted their footsteps as they echoed across the floor, breath trembling, chest squeezing until she thought her ribs cracked.

The moment the door had been closed and locked, she threw herself to Cloud’s side.

 _“Cloud.”_ She placed a gentle hand against his cheek, wide-eyed with worry, only to go still when she noticed just how feverish his skin felt. She jerked her hand away as she thought, _Is he sick?_ He _was_ more pale than usual; she could clearly make out the blue of his veins snaking beneath his skin, and his heartbeat fluttered erratically against the gentle pressure of her fingertips as she checked his pulse.

 _Something’s wrong,_ she knew.

Tifa lightly shook his shoulder, which was hidden beneath royal-blue silks. “Cloud,” she murmured, more insistent now. “Cloud, _please._ You need to wake up.”

His brow furrowed slightly in his sleep. His lips, little more than smears of red, lightly parted as his breath caught.

Tifa bit her lip. _“Cloud_.”

His eyes snapped open without warning.

Yet the relief that flared within her went silent and cold when she noticed: _His eyes are green._ They were supposed to be blue, and they _definitely_ were not supposed to be _slitted._ She froze as those slashed pupils flicked towards her and locked on, all the while dilating and contracting frantically, as if they were trying to focus but couldn’t. The mako surrounding the slits flickered and flared like a fire. His expression, so pinched and pained before, went slack.

“…Cloud?” She hated that it sounded like a question.

He blinked once at her, long and lazy. “Mother?” he replied.

Then it was Tifa’s turn to blink. _Mother?_ Not only was it strange he’d mistake her for his mother, but Cloud has always called Ms. Strife _Ma_. “N – No, Cloud. It’s me, Tifa,” she began, hesitant. “Your mother… she isn’t here anymore.”

She didn’t need to say anything more, and after a moment, Cloud’s unearthly stare slid to the unconscious woman lying nearby. Tifa followed his gaze. The woman, who was dressed in a scarlet ball gown with ribbons flowing through her hair, was a stranger to her, so turned back to meet Cloud’s eyes. She did her best to suppress the shiver than trickled down her spine when she saw those slitted pupils expand and contract.

“Cloud?” she managed. Her voice wavered; she pretended not to notice. “Who is she?”

She waited for Cloud to reply, but he never did. He only blinked once more, and when he opened his eyes again, their rabid, emerald-green glow had faded. They were no longer slashed, and their natural blue had returned. He looked… like Cloud.

Her chest tightened at the sight. “Cloud?” She sounded desperate, but she didn’t care. “Cloud, you there? You okay?” And when he didn’t respond, she then begged. “Please, Cloud… come back to me.”

Something flickered across his expression, and his eyes flicked to meet her own. “Ti -” he began, but then his expression twisted. His breath hitched in pain as his hand flew to his temple, but before Tifa could even get a word in, he began muttering, “I’m fine, I’m fine. Was...” He winced. “Was drugged. But I’m okay. Are – Are you…?” His voice was raw. “Is everything…?”

“I’m okay,” Tifa promised. “But… are _you_ okay? Your eyes…”

But he continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “Did Corneo…?”

His voice trailed off, and she heard what he couldn’t bring himself to say. “Nothing happened,” she soothed, and Cloud closed his eyes, his shoulders sagging in relief. “But… Cloud, how did you get here? How did you find me?”

Cloud opened his eyes. “Long story,” he managed, and made a move to sit upright. She immediately reached forward to help him, taking no consideration that his corset was bound more tightly than her own, nor that the only color in his face was the faint pink that had been powdered on his cheeks. “Really long,” he continued with a faint grimace. “I… had help getting off the upper plate. After the explosion. We went to the bar… and found Jesse. She said that you…” He shook his head, as if clearing it of cobwebs. “Said that… that you came here.”

Tifa nodded as if she was listening, but all she heard was the choppy way he was speaking and the painful way he strung his words together. It reminded her of when she first found him slumped over at the train station. Once again, she remembered that hospital gown he had been wearing, and she wondered what he had been running away from.

She bit her lip. “Cloud...” she began, and he lifted his head towards her, one eyebrow lifted in question. “Are you sure that you’re okay?”

“Headache,” he replied after a brief pause, then smiled. It was a small, thin smile, yet the room seemed a little less cold because of it. “And I’m glad… you’re okay.”

Tifa couldn’t help but return his smile. “Me too,” she murmured. Her hands cried to hold him, to draw him close and hug him tight, yet the memory of his slitted eyes flashed across her mind. _Unnatural,_ a part of her whispered. _Wrong._

 _But I am too,_ another part of her answered, so in a moment of bravery, she reached forward and placed her hand over Cloud’s. He went perfectly still at the touch. His gaze dropped to her hand, at the gentle lines of fingers, and he hardly breathed.

“Thank you for finding me,” she whispered.

Tension stretched between them, and then Cloud was slowly twisting his hand so their fingers entwined together “I made a promise,” he said simply. His voice was rusty and ragged and so hopelessly honest that it made Tifa’s throat tighten to hear it, and that familiar shard of guilt wormed deeper into her.

She didn’t deserve something like this. She wanted it anyway.

She squeezed his hand.

“Thank you,” she murmured to the still air. “For being here.”

Cloud raised his head from their tangled hands, and his voice was hoarse when he replied, “Always.”

A sudden noise behind them broke the moment, and then Cloud’s eyes went wide. _“Aerith,”_ he murmured, and then he was rising on unsteady feet. His footsteps were uneven as he made his way across the room and Tifa, bewildered, followed close behind. “Aerith, are you -”

“They _knocked me out._ ” The other woman, Aerith, pushed herself up on her elbows and placed a hand on her head, expression indignant. “They _drugged me_! Talk about _rude._ ”

“Yeah, they’re definitely not the most polite,” Tifa replied with the barest hint of a smile. She held her hand out to help the other woman off the floor; it still tingled where she had held Cloud’s hand. “I’m Tifa, by the way.”

Aerith impatiently brushed her hair out of her eyes, and Tifa was surprised to see the recognition burning there. “Aerith,” she replied curtly and accepted the hand, only to wince the moment she was on her feet. “Ugh, my _head_...”

“It goes away,” Cloud helpfully supplied.

“Hopefully sooner rather than later,” Aerith mumbled and then glanced towards Cloud. “And you? How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

Tifa pursed her lips at the monosyllabic answer, but to her surprise, so did Aerith. “You sure?” Aerith pressed.

Cloud nodded. “Yeah.”

“Positive?”

“ _Yes_.”

Aerith placed a hand on her hip. It was obvious she wanted to say more, but then after a pause she smiled. “Then want to tell Tifa about our awesome plan?”

Cloud’s expression soured.

“What plan?” Tifa asked, when it became clear Cloud wasn’t talking.

Aerith smoothed the wrinkles out of her dress. “A good one,” she replied. “Basically, we had to jump through a _lot_ of hoops to be able to audition tonight -”

“- Which we don’t need to talk about,” Cloud interjected, the flush high on his cheekbones.

Aerith grinned, as if there was a joke embedded somewhere in there. “- Which we don’t have to talk about,” she agreed. “But anyway, _getting here_ was phase one of our plan, and now we’re here and all together, we can begin phase two.”

“Phase two?” Tifa echoed, and Aerith’s eyes seemed to gleam.

“ _Escape_ ,” she enunciated. “It shouldn’t be too hard, because -”

“But need to get to Corneo’s office first,” Tifa interrupted. When Aerith didn’t seem surprised by this, she continued, “There’s a bounty on Cloud’s head, and Corneo should have more information on it.”

“We know,” Aerith stated, which had Tifa blinking, “and we’ll find it. Easy. We didn’t come here alone. You see, my boyfriend Zack is waiting for us outside.” She glanced upward as if she could see him through the ceiling. “While we’re auditioning or whatever, he’s going to break in and take out all the guards. Then we’ll corner Corneo and search the manor for that bounty letter, then get out.”

But something in Aerith’s explanation had snagged Tifa’s attention. “Zack,” she repeated. That name struck something within her, a distant chord of a familiar melody. Zack Fair had been the SOLDIER that had accompanied Sephiroth to her tiny town, and in the end, had been the SOLDIER who didn’t stop Sephiroth, didn’t stop her father’s death, and didn’t stop her home from burning to the ground.

But it was probably just a coincidence. There was more than one Zack in the world, after all.

Aerith nodded, oblivious to Tifa’s inner thoughts. “That’s right, Zack. He’s pretty strong, so he’ll be totally fine against Corneo’s lackeys. And as for us,” she added with a gentle pat on Cloud’s shoulder, “we’re pretty resourceful, so that bounty letter is as good as found.”

Tifa glanced at Cloud, who only looked on edge. He hadn’t said a word throughout Aerith’s explanation; in fact, he didn’t look inclined to say much of anything right now. Turning back to Aerith, she said, “You sound pretty sure about all of this.”

“Of course,” Aerith replied matter-of-factly.

Aerith’s confidence smoothed something within Tifa, but she wasn’t ready to let up just yet. “We should be careful when looking for the letter,” she began. “There are powerful people pay-rolling the bounty. Probably someone in Shinra, considering how much the bounty is – not just anyone can throw away three hundred thousand gil, after all – and we don’t want to be on their radar.”

To her surprise, Aerith subtly winced. “Yeah… bit too late for that. So while Cloud was ensuring that he got into the audition -”

 _“Aerith,”_ Cloud protested.

“I wasn’t going to say it!”

Tifa’s brow knitting in confusion, and she couldn’t help but wonder, _What happened while they were trying to find me?_

Aerith subtly coughed, drawing the conversation back to herself. “ _Anyway,_ while Cloud did his, uh, thing, we _might_ have royally pissed off the Turks at the same time.”

Tifa went still. _Did she just_ _say_ _…_ “The Turks?” she echoed.

“Yeah, the Turks,” Aerith affirmed, her tone almost sheepish. But Tifa hardly heard. The air was ice against her skin, and there was a faint roaring in her ears. She could barely handle _Corneo_ on her own, but having to deal with the Turks too? The Turks were ruthless, were unpredictable, and weren’t afraid to make someone disappear entirely.

Drawing the attention of the Turks might as well have been a death sentence.

And if they were related to Barret and Cloud’s bounty in some way, then there was absolutely no point to her being here. All the information in the world would be useless against Shinra’s most elite team. There would be nothing she could do against them.

“Do they… have anything to do with the bounty?” she asked, already fearing the answer.

To her surprise, it was Cloud that answered her. “Dunno.” The mako in his eyes seemed a little brighter than before. “We don’t… don’t know too much about them. But Zack does, though. He worked with them.”

Tifa went pale. _Zack’s a Turk?_

“But we’ll get all the information we need tonight,” Aerith continued, her tone almost cheerful “We just have to follow the plan.”

“Is this our only plan?” Tifa managed to ask. She sounded like she was being choked.

Aerith’s voice was even as she replied, “It is. But unfortunately,” she added a beat later, “we didn’t have much time to prepare.”

Aerith’s tone was gentle, but to Tifa, it still managed to sound like a jab. A _deserved_ jab, and she bit her lip. She hadn’t even _considered_ that the Turks would be involved in some way.

But hadn’t she always been like this? Whenever something terrible happened, she would throw herself at the first distraction came her way. When her mother died, it had been fighting. When her town burned down, it had been Avalanche. It was the same when Cloud had disappeared; she had assumed the worst, and infiltrating Corneo’s mansion was just the thing she needed to forget about it.

Her gaze dropped to her hands. “I’m sorry.” Her voice sounded small in the dingy, cluttered room, and then she added before she could stop herself, “I just didn’t want anyone else getting hurt.”

“But that’s the thing,” Aerith replied. “If you disappeared without saying good bye, then the people you left behind end up getting hurt anyway.”

Cloud glanced towards the door.

“I… I just…” Tifa began, but the words died in her throat. She _knew_ that. It was a lesson had ben engrained in her, except it was always _someone else_ leaving _her:_ her parents, her neighbors, her fighting instructor… and even Cloud. She hadn’t even considered that _she_ could be the one who could leave, or that there were even people that would care if she did.

But Barret would. Jesse would. Marlene would probably cry for days, and Wedge wouldn’t have anyone to save him the leftover fries. Biggs would try to shrug it off, but she also knew that he kept the group photo they had taken in his wallet.

Tifa glanced towards the far wall to hide the shine in her eyes.

But then a hand suddenly covered her own. She looked down to see that it was _Cloud’s,_ with his hand over hers in the same exact gesture she had done for him a moment ago. She stared; his nails were painted a rosy pink, and as she lifted her gaze to his face, she noticed his cheeks were the same color.

“It’ll be okay,” he promised, and he gently squeezed her hand.

Warmth pricked her eyes, and despite all the contrary evidence, she found herself believing him anyway.

“I know,” she replied.

He smiled.

* * *

Zack wasn’t a fan of waiting _._ It was dull, boring, and gave him far too much time to think about things better left untouched. So he distracted himself. He was a trained SOLDIER who had participated in numerous Wutai infiltration missions, and so navigating Corneo’s property proved to be a simple task. There were no armed guards patrolling the perimeter. There were no trees that a ninja could drop out of. There was no running water or muggy breeze that could distract him from the sound of approaching footsteps.

The only drawback was that he didn’t have his Buster Sword, and though he missed its familiar weight, he contented himself with the knowledge that it was safe and secure back at Madam M’s place. Besides, he was confident he could fight just fine with his fists, _especially_ against a few untrained grunts.

The thought cheered him, and he couldn’t help but grin… until he heard the sound of footsteps slowly trailing him.

He glanced over his shoulder. The harsh lines of the wolf mask weren’t the easiest to see out of, but soon he could spot the familiar gray hair of Leslie.

A part of him deflated; he had been hoping for a fight. “You can come out,” he called.

There was a pause, and then Leslie stepped out from behind one of the many dragon statues that decorated the property. The man’s brow was minutely creased, the only outward sign of his displeasure at being found. “I’m impressed,” he said. “I’m not easy to find what I don’t want to be.”

Zack shifted his weight to his other foot. “I’m a man of many talents.”

“Apparently,” Leslie replied coolly. “So want to explain what you’re doing rooting around Corneo’s mansion?”

“And why should I tell you that?”

Leslie lifted his head a little higher; apparently, this was the question he had been waiting for. “Because I know the mansion better than anyone else here, and I can help you and your friends take Corneo out. If you want,” he added after a pause.

If Zack hasn’t been through hell and back, he might have actually been surprised. “Let’s say I agree. What’s the catch?”

“The catch is that you leave Corneo to me,” Leslie replied immediately.

Zack arched an eyebrow. “You want him dead?”

“I do,” Leslie stated.

“Because?”

“My reasons are my own.”

There was an entire story written in those five short words, and Zack crushed his curiosity the moment it flared up. He didn’t have the time nor the energy to worry about anyone else’s deep-rooted trauma. He had Cloud’s and his own issues to worry about.

He crossed his arms against his chest. “Fair enough,” he said, his tone clipped. “You want in?”

Leslie took a step closer. “I do.”

Silence stretched between them as Zack noted fire burning in Leslie’s expression. Zack had been wondering if this was some sort of trap, or if Leslie had been put up to this by Corneo, but… _He really does want Corneo gone,_ Zack noted with cutting satisfaction.

_Good._

“How well do you know Madam M?” Zack asked.

Leslie blinked in surprise, but steadily replied, “Well enough.”

“She has all of our gear,” Zack continued. “If you can grab that and haul it back here, that would help out way more than knowing the mansion interior.” _But only because I’ve already walked the exterior and deduced the layout._ “Think you can handle that?”

“Easily,” Leslie replied, sounding insulted by Zack’s insinuation that he couldn’t.

“Even if there are Turks walking around?”

Leslie smirked. If he was surprised that the Turks were here, he certainly didn’t show it. Maybe he had run-ins with the Turks often… or maybe he simply didn’t care. “I know the back roads better than any person here,” he stated. “The Turks are good, but this place ain’t their home.”

Zack had to admit, he was liking Leslie more and more by the minute. “Glad to hear it. If you get our gear and get it back in one piece, Corneo’s all yours.”

“Thanks,” Leslie replied, as if Zack was doing him a favor and not the other way around. “Consider it done.”

Zack held out his hand with an unnoticed, crooked smile. “Shake on it?”

Leslie eyed Zack’s outstretched hand, then raised his gaze. “Don’t do that too often down here,” he said, but grabbed Zack’s hand and shook it anyway.

Just like that, they had a deal.

* * *

Cloud didn’t notice when the door was forced open, and he was only dimly aware of being hauled to his feet and guided down a series of staircases and hallways. His hand still tingled from when he had held Tifa’s hand, but the novelty was quickly fading. He knew that he was supposed to be silent. He also knew that he was supposed to walk with his hands clasped in front of him, his head bowed, and to look - _how did Aerith say it?_ \- demure.

Yet he could still taste the sweet tang of gas on his tongue and could still feel the guards’ hands wrapped around his wrists. The sensations became tangled up with everything else; memories of a white room, his hands banging a glass wall and the harsh echo that followed, of being half-carried, half-dragged down some sort of maze. If he closed his eyes, he could see a pale woman suspended in a gas jar. He could hear her voice bounce around his skull like a child’s rubber ball.

He fought to keep his expression lax as he, Tifa, and Aerith were ushered into a large room. Bamboo curved around the entranceway while ornate partitions divided the room in half. The characters for _strength_ and _luck_ hung on the walls, and jade dragons curved around straight-backed sofas that were piled high with crimson pillows. Cloud had a feeling that the few comforts of this room weren’t for them.

“Okay my beautiful ladies!” shouted one of the guards. His voice scraped against Cloud’s mind like a metal wire. “Time to line up for the Don!”

Tifa was the first in the line, and so she took her place at the end with her chin held high. Aerith stood beside her, calm and collected like she had done this a hundred times before. Only Cloud kept his eyes lowered as he drifted towards the far end, and his hands clammy clasped in front of him. The crimson carpet felt like it was swaying beneath his feet. The paper lanterns mounted along the room seemed far too bright suddenly. He squinted against their glow.

“Wait.” The lantern light was suddenly cut short by a shadow, and Cloud flicked up his gaze just long enough to see a guard with a mohawk and leather vest stop in front of him. “You look kinda familiar...” He then turned to Aerith. “We haven’t met before, have we?”

Aerith shook her head with a muffled _no._

The guard scratched the back of his head, puzzled. “Eh, whatever,” he finally said, and Cloud let his gaze drift back to the floor, relieved at the lack of attention. “All right, ya’ll ready to go?” he asked, and then without waiting for a response, continued, “Then let’s do this thing!” and gestured wildly towards the door. “Introducing Wall Market’s most eligible bachelor… the one, the only…” A door opened, and Cloud lifted his head. _“… Don Corneo.”_

A bald, tattooed head suddenly poked out from behind the wall. “Ladies?”

 _Shit,_ Cloud thought.

Don Corneo was in no way like Cloud had imagined. He had a tuft of blond hair that sat on his forehead like a reversed tail, and beside it sat a tattoo of an arrowed heart emblazoned with the word _Love_. His mustache had been waxed, his second chin warbled as he spoke, and his hairy chest was clearly visible thanks to his half-buttoned shirt. His rings glistened when he waved his meaty fingers towards them.

“Nice,” Corneo hissed as he crept into the room. “ _Very_ nice!”

Cloud once again dropped his gaze to the floor. He didn’t want to see what happened next.

“Whichever one shall I pick?” the Don continued as he danced up to them. He stopped in front of Aerith first, and he bent down low enough to see her ankles peeking out from beneath her scarlet ruffles. His dark eyes trailed up its slit, then around her waist, until he was eventually staring at her neckline. “Shall I pick you?” he asked, and then next he slid behind Tifa. His expression lit up when he saw just how nicely the ribbon was sashed around her hips, and then he made his way to the other side, where his eyebrows lifted when he saw the low V of her neckline. “Or maybe _you_?”

Tifa turned her head away in disgust, and Don Corneo laughed at her. “Or maybe...” He then made his way towards Cloud, and then paused in front of him. Corneo craned his neck like a bird, eyes narrowed and popping as he peered at the tight fit of Cloud’s dress, and then without warning his hands snapped out. His meaty fingers entwined around Cloud’s arms. He _squeezed_ them, causing Cloud to jostle backwards, and then he was slapping his large hands all over his shoulders, touching and prying him, _inspecting_ him like he was some sort of specimen –

Cloud couldn’t help it. His breath caught, and Corneo’s expression lit up at the sound. He hummed, low and sensuous, and then suddenly turned and was walking away. Cloud nearly stumbled; he could still feel Corneo’s hands all over his arms. The room was spinning. He heard the clinks of test tubes and doors hissing as they opened.

 _“Cloud,”_ Aerith whispered, low enough that only his sensitive hearing could pick it up. _“You’re okay.”_

There wasn’t enough air in the room. He nodded in agreement anyway.

Meanwhile, Corneo continued to hum until he reached the center of the room, and then he lifted a finger in the air. He waved it around a bit as if in thought, and then suddenly exclaimed, “Oh yeah!” Cloud flinched at the sudden noise. “I got it! _I’ve_ got it.”

He spun around, his lips twisted in a sneer, and Cloud dropped his gaze once more. _Don’t pick me,_ he silently begged. _Don’t pick me._ He was ashamed to think such thoughts, to even _admit_ them to himself, but he just… he just _couldn’t_ right now.

Corneo snapped his fingers. “Today’s bride-to-be is…!”

Aerith gasped beside him. “Today’s?” she exclaimed.

“And tomorrow’s, or the day after’s – if the Don takes a shine to you,” the guard said in response.

Tifa’s expression hardened in disgust.

Corneo continued as if no one had spoken at all. “Today’s lucky lady is…” He paused, letting the silence stretch out between them, and then lowered his outstretched finger. “… The girl in the blue!”

It took Cloud a moment to remember that he was wearing a blue dress. It took him an even longer moment to realize that Corneo was pointing towards _him_.

Horror flickered in his eyes. His lips parted, but no sound came out.

Corneo giggled at the expression. “Ooh, I will enjoy teaching you to have some _spine.”_ But Cloud hardly registered the words; he turned to look at Tifa and Aerith, who were also closely watching him. Tifa looked as sick as he felt, but Aerith subtly nodded at him.

 _Go,_ she seemed to be saying. _You can do this._

Cloud slowly exhaled. _I can do this,_ he reminded himself, and he steeled his expression. He tried not to react when Corneo grabbed his hand and physically pulled him into the back room. He tried not to stumble when the floor shifted beneath his heels.

“The leftovers are all yours,” Corneo called over his shoulder.

Something within Cloud chilled. _Leftovers?_ he thought, just as a chorus of cheers and whistles rose up behind him.

 _“Hell_ yeah!” one of the guards shouted, and then made his way towards Tifa and Aerith. Tifa’s expression had gone blank; Aerith simply looked surprised. “Okay ladies,” he told them, grinning all the while. “Ya’ll coming with me.”

Cloud’s footsteps faltered. _No._ He wanted to reach his hand out towards them, to grab their hands and run, and yet he remained frozen. His feet refused to move forward no matter how Corneo tugged and pulled. _Don’t take them,_ he silently begged, but Tifa and Aerith were already being ushered out the door, their backs straight against the hands that pushed them forward.

He had promised that he’d rescue Tifa if she needed it. He’d also promised Zack that he’d take care of Aerith while Zack was outside the manor.

Both of those promises were broken the moment the door closed behind them.

“Oh don’t look so sad, sugar,” Corneo purred into his ear. “You’ll forget all about them with _me_ around.”

But all Cloud heard was, _You’ll forget all about them,_ and something within him crumpled.

* * *

Aerith thought that being locked in the cellar was bad, but _this_ was even worse.

“Ayo, fellas!” called the guard, who she had recently learned was named Kotch. His voice rang out in the dark, cluttered room, and several hopeful faces lifted in answer. “We’ve got guests! And y’all got the first chance at _entertaining_ them!”

The way he said _entertaining_ send shivers down Aerith’s spine, and she glanced about the room to get her bearings. The dusty lanterns did little to light up the space, which was littered with stained mattresses and oversized pillows. Torn out magazine pages had been taped onto the flaking wallpaper and wilting boxes had been stacked against the walls. Cigarette smoke lingered heavily in the air, and she resisted the urge to sneeze.

“And of course,” Kotch continued in that announcer voice of his, “all of this is courtesy of the ever-generous Don Corneo himself! Never forget – the Don _provides.”_

A long _yeaaah_ rose from somewhere in the crowd. There were at least ten guards scattered across the room. Some had been playing card games on a cracked table, others had been lounging on bare mattresses, but all had their undivided attention on her and Tifa.

Aerith crossed her arms against her chest in a futile barrier between her and their audience. Beside her, Tifa’s scarlet lips pursed in revulsion.

One of the guards, a man in sunglasses and a gaudy green jacket, stepped forward. “So, ladies. Ready to… _get to it?_ ”

Aerith figured he didn’t mean a game of cards. “Yeah!” she replied brightly, and then she glanced at Tifa. Surprise flicked across Tifa’s expression, but then it was gone in a moment, replaced by something a little darker and a little harder. Satisfied, Aerith turned back to the man in green and continued, “I guess I’m ready to go whenever. How ‘bout you, Tifa?”

Tifa hummed. “Ten guards between us… so five each?” She paused for a moment and then nodded, as if pleased by the odds. “Okay,” she said, and she lowered her center of gravity. “Let’s not keep Cloud waiting.”

“Right,” Aerith agreed, then turned back to the guard and kicked him in the shin.

Surprise was on her side, and he went down. “What the hell!” someone else shouted, and then Tifa was moving. Aerith had never considered fighting _beautiful –_ it was a necessity sometimes in the slums, but there wasn’t anything elegant or delicate about it. Tifa challenged that notion. She ducked beneath a swing and then rose up, her dress rising around her in ribbons of lilac and rose, and then swung around in a brutal, yet simultaneously graceful, kick.

“Nice!” Aerith shouted as the man hit the floor.

Tifa made a noise in response, too busy drawing the guard’s attention to do much else. A couple of Corneo’s men also ran for Aerith, and she squeaked before grabbing a folding chair off the floor.

The guard grinned. “That looks a little heavy for you, sweetheart” he said as she rose it above her head.

“You wish,” she replied, and dragged the chair down as hard as she could. It smashed against the man’s head and he went down like a sack of rocks, and the other guard bristled with outrage.

“Bitch!” he shouted, and then he was running towards her, one hand cocked back in a punch…

… but then a shadow drifted by her side. _“That’s no way to call a lady,”_ said a dark voice, and suddenly the man was flying across the room. He slammed into the wall with a dull thud, leaving the rest of the guards to stare open-mouthed at the carnage.

Aerith sharply exhaled – _What just happened?_ \- and turned to the side, expecting to see some other enemy, but instead looked into the reflective silver of a familiar wolf mask.

Her lips curved into a smile. “You’re late,” she teased.

She heard instead of saw his grin as Zack replied, “Are you kidding?” He reached up and gently plucked his mask off; when he opened his eyes again, the mako within them was glowing bright and hot. “I think I’m right on time.”

* * *

Tifa could smell the smoke of her hometown. She could taste its ash in the air and could hear the screams cry out in harmony, because _he_ was here – Zackary Fair, SOLDIER First Class and partner to Sephiroth, was standing in front of her with a grin on his face and love in his eyes. Her newfound friend Aerith was smiling as well, and her smile only broadened when _he_ turned around and told the guards that their entire room stunk of sweat.

 _What are the odds,_ she thought distantly. She could smell the smoke of her hometown burning.

Zack went on, commenting on the guards’ appearance and how tacky it was, and then asked about their pay-grade. Couldn’t be much, he figured; definitely wasn’t worth it considered all the shit Corneo put them through.

But all Tifa could hear was her father choking as he died.

Then _he_ took a step forward, and his black shoes reflected the dull light of the old lanterns. He was telling them that they could see the mako in his eyes, the ethereal glow that flickered in their dusty depths, and they would have already started running if they were smart. But they weren’t smart, were they? Because if they _were_ smart, they’d have already ask for a pay raise.

But all Tifa could see was her face reflected in Sephiroth’s thin silver blade, at the _hate_ raging there as her own words rang out in the reactor:

_SOLDIERs, Shinra, Mako… I hate them all!_

There was a dull thud as one of the guards hit the ground, and then Zackary Fair: SOLDIER First Class was across the room, one hand loosely dangling what looked like dog-tags while the other was clenched in a tight fist. He let the dog-tags drop, and yet before they hit the ground _another_ guard was sailing through the air. The guard’s back cracked against the wall.

Tifa flinched. She had heard that sound before; but it was _her_ back, _her_ losing fight against the most powerful SOLDIER in history.

Another hit, and another guard fell. Over and over and over again, with Aerith cheering on and occasionally trying to help. But Tifa simply stood there. Rooted. She knew how to fight and yet her hands were limp at her sides. Her balance was off-center and uneven. Her breaths were ragged against her throat.

 _Get a grip,_ she told herself. _The past is the past, and this is the present. I need to focus._

Yet the room seemed to spin anyway, regardless of her plea. It had an epicenter, a clear divide; much like a hurricane orbits a single point, the room spun around the First Class SOLDIER.

She dimly noticed that Zack looked different now. While he had been nothing but smiles back then, the lanterns here painted him in a bloody light. His jaw was more defined, the lines around his eyes were deeper, and the mako in his eyes seemed to be trying to burn something away.

Her breath stilled at the sight of it. She may have no mako buried in her gaze, but she _recognized_ that look. It was the unconscious cry of wishing for something more; the wild hope that everything could be better; the crushing realization that nothing would ever be the same. It was a fractured wish. It was a battle cry. It was a declaration to the stars that though he did not have a sword, he had a stick and therefore could fight. He _would_ fight.

And Tifa could smell the smoke.

One of the guards threw a fist and Zack dodged, teeth bared back in a grimace. Another one of Corneo’s henchmen ran up behind him while holding a rope, but before Aerith could shout a warning, Tifa was running. She crouched and then threw herself into the air, and then her foot was colliding with the man’s face.

“Missed one,” Tifa murmured when she stood upright again. She was only dimly aware that she and Zack were now standing back-to-back, with both of their hands extended in a fighting stance, their brows furrowed in concentration.

But there was no one left to fight and turning around to face Zack fully only solidified that fact. Her expression softened; a shadow flickered across his. Tifa wondered what that shadow meant. Did he also recall Nibelheim when he looked at her? Did he see the overly confident girl that led them to the reactor? Or did he see the poor, fatherless girl crying within it, with blood on her hands and a sword at her feet?

And still she could hear the echo: _There was no one left to fight_.

“I’m sorry,” Zack whispered, breaking the silence between them.

Tifa’s throat tightened, and for a moment, she wasn’t sure what to say. Nothing seemed to fit. _I thought you were dead,_ didn’t feel right. Neither did a simple, _I forgive you,_ so eventually she settled on:

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

Zack blinked in surprise; clearly, he had been expecting her to say something far different, and it bolstered her.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she repeated, and her voice sounded a little surer. “I… It wasn’t fair of me to blame you back then. What happened… It wasn’t your fault.”

She could feel Aerith’s curious stare on her back. She ignored it.

“But…” Zack’s mouth opened, closed, and then opened again. “Are you...”

“But we can talk about that later,” Tifa interrupted. Hurt flickered across Zack’s expression, and it pained her to know that she was the cause. But she couldn’t have this conversation, not yet, and certainly not right here. There were other priorities right now. “Right now, we need to save Cloud,” she continued, her tone gentler. “He’s upstairs with Corneo. He’s waiting for us.”

After a brief pause, Zack nodded. “Of course,” he replied, curt and clipped, and then made a move for the door. Tifa and Aerith were quick to follow, with Aerith shooting her confused looks all the while. “Was Cloud really chosen?” Zack asked after a pause.

“Yep,” Aerith replied. Apparently, she had given up on her curiosity for now. “Corneo liked him the best.”

They all ran up the stairs, two at a time. Zack made a sound that could have been a laugh. “Seriously?”

“That’s right,” Tifa replied. She tried to sound lighthearted, but it sounded forced. “Guess Corneo liked his dress the most.”

Zack snorted, and then they were turning a sharp left and throwing open a door. Lights from Corneo’s office and audition room spilled into the dingy staircase. “We should have Cloud dress in drag more often,” he said. “Maybe we can make some money out of it.”

Aerith shot Zack a horrified look. “ _Zack!”_

“I’m kidding!” They rushed to the far end of the office, where two large statues seemed to be guarding the door to the back room. “And don’t tell Cloud I said that,” he added as he threw open the door. Another hallway stretched out before them. “Cloud would kill -”

_“Oh, don’t stop!”_

Corneo’s shout bounced off the walls and echoed in Tifa’s head. She went white and shot Aerith a horrified look; Aerith mirrored her expression, while Zack stared open-mouthed at the next closed door.

 _“You depraved bastard,”_ came a deadpanned response.

Then the mako in Zack’s gaze flared bright enough to tinge his eyelashes green, and with Tifa’s next blink, he was sprinting across the hall. She followed quickly in pursuit, heart pounding in her chest.

_“Yes! Yes I am!”_

Zack tore the door open with enough force to crack the wood and then he was storming the room, one hand reaching back for a sword that wasn’t there, then other reaching forward with fingers splayed. But it turned out there was no need. Corneo had lunged at Cloud, but Cloud had been ready. His heeled foot snapped out and connected with Corneo’s face.

Tifa skidded to a stunned stop as the wet sound of cartilage crushed against bone echoed through the room, and then Corneo was falling boneless onto the bed, completely unconscious. Even Zack stared, obviously surprised, but then he laughed. The noise was hysterical and breathless and choked all at once.

“Perfect form!” he managed as he ran up to Cloud. “Right in the kisser!”

Cloud only stared at him, just as surprised as they were. “Zack?” he said. “Tifa? Aer...” But his voice trailed off as his eyes clouded, and then he was wobbling backwards. He threw one hand back to stabilize himself against the wall, but Zack had an anchoring hand on his arm with his next breath.

“Yeah, buddy,” Zack replied, tone gentle as he eased Cloud to the floor. Cloud had a hand pressed against his temple. “Sorry I’m a little late.”

“Cloud!” Tifa hurried to Cloud’s side as Cloud glanced at her, stunned all over again, only for recognition to melt his features as she skidded beside him. “Are you hurt? Corneo didn’t touch you, did he?”

He shook his head in reply. The braids bobbed against his shoulders. “No,” he replied simply. Exhaustion bled into his voice, and he allowed himself to lean back against the wall. His head connected with the wallpaper with a muted thud. “You okay?” he asked after a pause. “They grabbed you…”

“I’m fine.” Tifa was speaking quickly, the words sounding as if they were running from something. “Really. We took out everyone downstairs, and the rest of the manor is empty.”

“Corneo…?”

“Unconscious,” came Aerith’s proud reply. “You knocked him out good.”

“Even broke his nose,” Zack added, sounding just as pleased. He helped Aerith tie Corneo to the bed. “That’s a hard thing to do in heels.”

A smile fluttered across Cloud’s expression. “Not hard,” he murmured.

“It’s a _little_ hard,” Zack grinned, and then glanced at Cloud. Another shadow passed across his expression, but it was gone a moment later. “Need a potion, Spikey?”

 _Potion?_ Tifa wondered, and she glanced at Cloud for any hint of an explanation. But none was forthcoming; clearly he had exhausted himself, and even seemed to be drifting off as he slouched against the wall. It worried her. She had known that he was unwell, but now she was questioning how deep that went.

Movement to her side had her glancing over her shoulder, and to her surprise, Zack had crouched beside her. A vial of green-tinged liquid sloshed in his hand, and she immediately recognized it for what it was: a potion. Her eyes widened at the sight of it. Potions were a rare commodity, _especially_ in the slums, and it made her wonder how he had gotten it.

His mako-stained eyes flicked towards her. “I’ll need to give him this,” he explained plainly. There was something guarded in his tone, yet there was a tinge of something else as well, something that she couldn’t identify. “It helps with everything.”

Tifa obediently scooted back to give him room, but her gaze never left the glass bottle. “Helps with what?”

For a moment, Zack didn’t reply. Tifa didn’t think he would, but then he said, “It helps with the side-effects of mako poisoning.” The potion hissed as he uncorked it. “There’s a little mako in potions, so not exactly ideal for treating _mako_ poisoning, but it does help with the mako withdrawals. It also repairs what the mako poisoning is, well, _poisoning_.” He grinned then, humorless and bitter. “Well, you win some, you lose some.”

Tifa could only stare. “Cloud has mako poisoning?” she echoed.

“You didn’t know?” Zack asked. He sounded surprised.

“He...” Tifa shook her head. “He told me that he was in SOLDIER.”

Zack’s surprise faded into a broken smile. “Not quite,” he quietly replied, then reached forward and gently shook Cloud awake – he had drifted off during their conversation. “But let’s talk about that later.”

 _Along with everything else,_ her mind automatically added. She nodded. They certainly had quite a lot they needed to talk about.

Cloud came to with a faint murmur, and then his eyelashes were fluttering open. “Zack?”

“Sorry for waking you, buddy. But -” Zack lifted the potion to Cloud’s line of sight, “-you have to drink this.”

Cloud looked as if he bit into a lemon. “Right… now?”

“Yep.” Zack pressed the potion into Cloud’s hands. Cloud seemed to hold onto it on instinct. “And the faster you drink it, the sooner it’s over with.”

“…Whole thing?”

Zack nodded with a small smile on his lips. “Pretty much, yeah.”

Cloud made a face. “Hate potions.”

“I know,” came Zack’s response, and then he was slowly getting to his feet. “Whole thing.”

“Whole thing,” Cloud quietly cursed, and lifted the bottle to his lips.

Tifa watched for a moment, still grabbling with the reality that Cloud had _mako poisoning,_ before she glanced up to Zack. He was already walking back to Aerith, who seemed quite pleased by how thoroughly she had tied Corneo to the bed post. Clearing her throat, she began, “How often...”

“Half a potion morning and evening,” Zack replied without glancing towards her. “More if it’s bad.”

Tifa glanced back to the _whole_ potion Cloud was currently drinking, to the mako in his eyes that were burning hot enough to stain his high cheekbones a pretty jade green.

 _More if it’s bad,_ her mind echoed, and her chest tightened. No; it didn’t just tighten. It _cracked,_ nearly to the point of collapse, until only thing keeping her together were her arms hugging around her chest.

“Tifa,” Aerith said from the other side of the bed. “You need to find the bounty, right?”

The mention of the bounty snapped something within her. Of course; how could she have forgotten?

“Right,” she said, and reluctantly got to her feet. “You two are taking care of Corneo?”

Aerith frowned. “For now, but he’ll wake up soon. We need to find it quickly.”

“Of course.” Tifa glanced once more at Cloud – he was halfway done with his potion – and then tore her gaze away. Finding that bounty letter was the best way to help him, to _protect_ him. And besides, wasn’t finding the bounty letter the reason why she came here in the first place?

Yet before she made it out of the bedroom, her footsteps faltered and she found herself turning around. “Aerith,” she began. She wasn’t sure why she didn’t look at Zack. “Would you mind watching...”

Her voice trailed off, and Aerith’s expression softened. “Of course,” she replied. “We’re right here.”

Tifa managed a smile. “Thank you,” she said honestly, and then darted into the office before she could change her mind.

She had to find the letter.

She wanted to remain by Cloud’s side.

But instead she ripped apart the desk like she was ripping open a wrapped present, and she tore through its drawers while trying to uncover its secrets. It was a lot of nonsense: Honey Bee Inn receipts, invoices for expensive foods like caviar, venison, and T-bone steak, measurements for custom tailored clothes. Worst of all, she found an album buried in the lowest drawer, and within it were pictures of his _previous_ wives – all pale from living beneath the plate, wearing cheap eyeliner than trailed black down their cheeks when they cried, dressed in expensive clothes that seemed uncomfortable to be in.

It made her sick to look at so she threw it right in the trash. If the entire mansion hadn’t been made of flammable wood, she would have burned it, too.

“Need help?” came a voice at her side, and she looked up to see Zack. He was once again wearing that guarded expression, the sort that made her wonder what he was trying to protect himself against.

She nearly said no, but then bit her lip and nodded. “I’d appreciate it,” she admitted, vaguely gesturing at the desk. “Can you pick a lock? One of the drawers is locked tight, and I can’t find the key.”

 _“I can!”_ came Aerith’s voice from the bedroom. Zack grinned in her direction, then immediately, pointedly sobered when he turned back to Tifa. It hurt, in a strange way, but she didn’t know why.

“I can do you one better,” Zack replied, then lifted his leg and stomped the lock right off the drawer.

 _“Gonna break you_ _r_ _foot,”_ came Cloud’s muffled voice.

Zack grinned once again. “That was a one-time occurrence, Spikester.”

There was a harsh sigh, then: _“_ _ **Not**_ _a Spikester.”_

“Spikester?” Tifa asked under her breath. She was grinning as well, though she didn’t immediately realize it.

“Spikester,” Zack agreed as he forced the drawer open. His expression wasn’t so guarded any more, and his lack of walls made Tifa slowly drop her own. “It’s Cloud’s best-fitting, but most hated, nickname.”

Tifa giggled. “I can’t imagine why.”

“It really is a mystery,” Zack dryly chuckled, and then dragged a handful of paper out of the drawer. As she looked through them, most were old and stained, such as the impressive collection of tax records, client notes, and financial transactions. But there was one that was crisp and obviously new, and Zack dragged it out of the pile. His mako-stained gaze flicked across the lines.

And as he read, the paler he became.

“What is it?” Tifa asked. Tension bled into her tone.

Zack took a shaky step backwards. He didn’t seem to have heard her. “No. No no _no_...”

“What is it?” Tifa said again, much more insistent this time.

Zack swallowed thickly, and then read in a halting voice, “ _A bounty of three hundred thousand gil is being offered to the successful capture of the following individuals...”_

“And then?” Tifa demanded when Zack’s voice trailed off.

Zack sharply exhaled. “… _one tall, unnamed man with dark skin and a prosthetic gun grafted onto his right arm. The other is named…”_ Zack breath caught. “… _is named Cloud Strife, with blond hair, pale skin, and shorter stature.”_

“They know his name?” Tifa unconsciously lifted a trembling hand against her lips. “How do they know his name but not Barret’s? We used fake IDs the entire time…”

Once again, Zack didn’t seem to have heard her. “ _This is by order of Shinra Electric Power Company,”_ he read. “ _by both the head of Public Safety and… and also...”_

When Zack’s voice faltered, Tifa placed a gentle hand on his arm. To her shock, he flinched; Zackary Fair, SOLDIER First Class and partner to Sephiroth, _flinched._

Strangely, it made him seem more human.

“And then?” she prompted, her tone gentle.

Zack shook his head, as if chasing away an old nightmare, and continued, “ _...And also… and also the Science and Research Division.”_ He said the title in a single gasp, as if the name itself was acid and it was eating at his throat.

“Which means Heidegger and Hojo are behind the bounty,” Tifa surmised, brow furrowed, as that didn’t make any sense. _Heidegger_ she could see having interest in the explosion, as setting off bombs in the city was a direct threat to public safety. But _Hojo?_ Why would the reclusive head of science care about an explosion or two?

But according to Zack’s nauseous expression, maybe Hojo actually cared quite a bit.

“Don’t… Don’t tell Cloud,” Zack finally said. He turned to Tifa and pinned her beneath his glowing, ethereal stare. “Don’t tell him, whatever you do.”

Tifa blinked at the intensity of his voice. “I – I won’t,” she relented. It didn’t seem like she had a choice. “But why? He needs to know who’s after him, so that he can pro -”

“No, he doesn’t,” Zack interrupted, and his tone left no room for argument. His lips were pressed into a grimace. “I’ll take care of it.”

 _Take care of it?_ Tifa’s mouth opened as she tried to ask, _What does that mean, exactly?_ but Zack was already walking back into the bedroom, eyes burning bright, paper crumpled in his clenched fist. Clearly the conversation was over, and after a lengthy pause Tifa followed him. She didn’t bother to reorganize the desk behind her.

Cloud looked up as Zack approached. The potion bottle in his hand was empty, and his expression were clearer than before. “You okay?” he asked when Zack knelt next to him.

Zack blinked, caught off-guard, but then he smiled. It was meant to be reassuring, but it only looked sharp and brittle. “Yeah, buddy,” he replied. “I’m okay. And you will be, too,” he added after a brief pause.

Cloud arched an eyebrow at his serious tone, but Tifa heard what Zack _wasn’t_ saying; that Cloud was going to be okay only because he was going to ensure it, one way or another.

 _But how?_ she wondered. It didn’t seem possible, but another part of her already knew what Zack had been referring to when he swore to _take care of it_ :

Hojo was going to die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this entire chapter was _soo_ difficult to write because I wanted to stay true to the much-loved Remake scenes, but I also had to change some things around so that it fits with our timeline and plot. Hopefully I managed to find a good balance between the two!
> 
> But anyway, about the coliseum. I didn't do it because it didn't make sense in this part of the story. Canonically, the coliseum scene takes place after the hand massage scene but before the Honey Bee dance scene. However, I switched all those around - I did Honey Bee first to grab Zack and get Cloud dressed up, and then did the hand massage scene with Zack in order to get Aerith's dress. But with everyone dolled up, they couldn't fight in the coliseum because they would ruin their outfits & that would drag the Wall Market arc out wayyy longer than I wanted. **So instead** , I'm going to blend the coliseum scene into the Gold Saucer arc and make that entire thing so much better and more exciting. Yeah, it'll take us a while to get there, but _when we do_ it's going to be epic (and I've already outlined the entire thing lol).
> 
> Moving on: If you enjoy story updates or chapter previews, feel free to follow [my twitter](https://twitter.com/Rand0mSmil3z) ! Links to my Ko-Fi page can also be found there if you'd like to support my writing, but there's absolutely no pressure to do so - if you're enjoying the story, then I'm happy 😊
> 
> Until next time: Stay well, stay safe, and I wish you all the best 💙


	26. Sewer Systems and Secret Missions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thursday (er, Friday?) everyone!
> 
> Thank you all for so patiently waiting for this chapter! I had a lot going on these recently - I was babysitting the baby nieces and nephew, three kids under three, for the past few weekends. So, as you can probably imagine, it was hard to find time to write and edit in all of that. But now we're back to a normal schedule! ~~Which I'm super excited for, by the way.~~
> 
> Also, thank you all (again) for all of your kudos and wonderful comments. They honestly make my entire day 😊🌸
> 
> Last thank you goes to my amazing beta, [silver_doe287](https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_doe287), for making this chapter actually readable lol.
> 
> Enjoy the chapter! 😊

Corneo's bedroom was everything that a bedroom shouldn't be. It temperature was cold, the atmosphere was unwelcoming, and the gaudy décor was overwhelming. A dragon statue hung over the bed with its claws sunken into the bed's wooden frame. Bricks of gold were scattered haphazardly scattered across the floor. Flowers drooped in their ceramic pots. Cluttered bookshelves stretched to the ceiling, and the books themselves spanned across all subjects – medical science, Gaian history, business marketing strategies, and more, yet all of their leather-backed spines were dusty. It was clear that they hadn't been opened in a long while, and their only purpose was to make Corneo seem smart and everyone else seem stupid.

Cloud tried to ignore the overwhelming clutter as he leaned back against the wall and sighed. The empty potion bottle rested beside him, and he idly traced its glass lip with his finger as his mind replayed the events of the day: from waking up and realizing Zack was alive, to finding out Tifa was auditioning to be someone's wife, to right now… He was exhausted, and yet he found that he couldn't close his eyes. He instead kicked off his heels, stretched his legs out before him, and allowed himself a brief moment to relax.

Zack was doing the exact opposite. He was pacing the room with the expression of a man obsessed. With every long stride, his shiny black shoes reflected the scarlet lamplight and the look in his eyes only became more severe. Cloud's mako-stained gaze lazily tracked Zack's movements; back and forth he walked, to the point where it was triggering Cloud's motion sickness, and Cloud had no choice but to turn away.

 _Something's wrong,_ he knew, but he couldn't bring himself to worry about it. When was something _not_ wrong these days?

"How are you feeling?" Tifa suddenly asked. She was sitting beside him, her legs delicately folded beneath her and her expression pinched with concern. "Doing okay?"

"Yeah," he replied after a pause, and then he managed a small smile. "Jus' tired. And you?"

"I'm doing okay." Tifa smiled hesitantly in return, only to flush and drop her gaze to her wringing hands. "I _am_ ready to head home, though. It's… been a day."

Cloud's expression dimmed. "Yeah," he agreed, but his attention snagged at the word, _Home._ It tugged at something within him, dragged up soft memories that pinched where it hurt the most, and he swallowed hard against the emotion that suddenly welled up within him. "Um, Tifa…"

"Yeah?"

"When do you think we'll leave?" The sooner they got out of Corneo's bedroom, the better.

Zack's footsteps suddenly faltered, but he resumed his fervent pacing a heartbeat later. "We'll leave as soon as Leslie gets here," he stated. "He's getting our stuff, but he should be here soon."

Tifa shifted her weight against the wall. "But doesn't that put us at risk?" she asked. Her casual tone had an undercurrent of anxiety, and it had Cloud instinctively tensing. "The longer we sit here, the more likely it'll be that Corneo's henchmen will wake up. Or _Corneo_ will wake up, for that matter," she added.

"I know, I know. But Leslie has something of mine. _Two_ somethings, in fact, and I..." Zack ran an impatient hand through his air with a sharp exhale. "I just can't leave without them."

Cloud lifted his head. _The Buster Sword and Aerith's box of letters,_ he realized, and opened his mouth to ask Zack -

\- but he was effectively cut off by a loud crash outside, which was closely followed by " _Shit,"_ and then the sound of quiet footsteps as someone ascended the stairs. Cloud immediately stiffened and moved to stand, to at least be more prepared to defend himself, but Zack lifted a hand.

"It's okay," he said, eyes pinned on the open door. "It's Leslie." He said the name like it was a prayer spoken in a dark, and the glow in his eyes faded a fraction. "He made it."

"Was there any question?" came a muffled voice, and then Leslie himself appeared at the doorway. His pale hair was mused, his cheeks were flushed, sweat pricked his brow, and he had an annoyed tilt to his lips as he stomped into Corneo's bedroom. "Though you also didn't tell me that you had so much crap," he added as he threw two large, wrapped bundles onto the floor. Zack's Buster Sword quickly followed, and it hit the plush carpet with a muted thud. "What are you, a hoarder or something?"

Zack dryly chuckled. "It's not all my stuff," he replied, and then vaguely gestured behind him. Corneo's unconscious body lay sprawled on the oversized bed. "He's all yours."

Leslie's expression shuttered. He strode over to the bed, eyes shadowed by his cap, and for a moment all he did was stare down at Corneo's face. "I see someone broke his nose," he finally said.

"He was asking for it," Aerith stated. Cloud shot her a grateful look.

"I don't doubt it." Leslie's lips twitched into what could have been a smile, yet his expression smoothed immediately as he glanced over his shoulder towards the rest of the party. "You all should leave," he told them. "There's a secret exit underneath here -" he tapped the ground with his shoe for emphasis, "- so as soon as you're ready, I'll open it for you. It'll eventually lead towards Sector Seven."

 _Sector Seven._ The name hit Cloud like caffeine in a shot of expresso, and his pulse quickened a fraction. _That's…_

"So it heads straight home," Tifa murmured at his side.

 _Home._ It was that word again, and Cloud felt that familiar pinching ache in his chest. Sector Seven wasn't exactly home to him. Not yet, as old scars were still smarting, but if Tifa thought of it that way…

… Well, maybe he could get used to the idea.

Eventually.

"Awesome," Zack replied, cutting off Cloud's thoughts, and was already opening up the nearest cloth sack. "Nice," he said under his breath, and then with a glance towards Cloud, continued, "C'mon Spikey, looks like we got our clothes. Which means -" he nodded towards Tifa and Aerith, "- that the other one is for you guys."

"And Tifa, there's also a change of clothes for you!" Aerith pulled a pink blouse out of the second bundle. The blouse was very reminiscent of Madam M's garb but had a straight cut, no ribbons or frills, and subtle flowers embroidered into the design. "And… _ooh,_ look at this!" she added excitedly. "I _love_ this skirt!"

Aerith hauled a mint-green skirt out of the bag. It had a silken quality to it, and it shimmered faintly in the light. Tifa tilted her head, concerned. "Doesn't it look… expensive?" she finally asked.

"You _deserve_ expensive," Aerith replied emphatically.

"It's not very practical, either..."

"Doesn't matter," Aerith stated, and she dropped the clothes in Tifa's arms. Tifa accepted them with an uneasy expression. "How about we change in the one of the walk-in closets? And _no peeking,_ from _either_ of you," she added with a scowl at the boys. "If I catch either you, I'll be mad!"

Cloud went pink."I… I would never -"

"I should be saying that to _you,"_ Zack interrupted as he grabbed both his and Cloud's change of clothes. "Weren't you the one all excited to see me in a tux? And," he added with a wicked smile towards Aerith, "didn't you get jealous of Madam M from the _hand_ massage _?_ "

Cloud stared at Zack as if he had lost his mind, but his warning glance went utterly ignored as Zack shot Aerith a dark wink.

Aerith flushed a brilliant color and sputtered, "Zackary Fair, I would _never_ -"

"Can you all _please_ just change and go?" Leslie loudly interrupted.

Zack laughed in response, and the party momentarily split up. The girls went to change in the oversized closet, and the boys headed just outside to a nearby storage room.

Cloud followed close behind Zack, feet bare and ears burning. _Does Aerith think that I'd peek?_ he thought, he _wouldn't_ peek. _Ever_. He didn't… He didn't _do_ stuff like that. Other guys might, sure _,_ but he was different from all of -

"- a to Spikey. Gaia to… Ah, there he is." Cloud blinked to find Zack staring intently at him, and Zack grinned when he noticed that Cloud was now paying attention. "Thank the gods. Lost you for a second."

"Sorry. I, ah…" He cleared his throat. "What did you, um, say?"

"I said I got your clothes," Zack said as he unceremoniously dumped them into Cloud's arms. Cloud immediately recognized his gray hoodie and jeans, and when Zack put his shoes – his _own_ shoes – on the ground, he nearly went light headed with relief. "Happy not to wear those heels anymore?"

Cloud smiled. "Yeah."

"And check it out." Zack pulled another item out of the bundle: a small box emblazoned with cheerful woman dabbing her face, and the words ' _For sensitive skin'_ were written out beneath her. "Madam M even packed you some makeup remover wipes. Nice."

Cloud pressed a hand against his cheek, only to grimace at the thick powder that caked his fingertips. "Thank the gods," he muttered as he brushed his hands off on his dress. They left behind pale streaks against the navy blue silks. "I never want to wear this stuff again."

"Aw, don't say that, Spikey." Zack shrugged off his suit jacket, grinning all the while. "You looked pretty good in makeup. Bet we could make some money off of that."

Cloud, who had been trying to get the braided extensions out of his hair, looked up in horror. " _No_."

"I'm just kidding." Having freed himself from his jacket, Zack worked on unbuttoning his shirt as he kept talking. "But seriously – you did kill the look. Hell, Reno wanted to ask for your number."

"Reno did?" Cloud's horror reached new heights. Like sure, Reno _had_ seemed to like his, er, performance, but for that _like_ to go a little bit deeper _…_ Cloud turned away, the back of his hand pressed against his lips. "I'm gonna be sick."

Zack laughed at his reaction. "Look, don't worry about it. It just means you did an amazing job during your dance. Hell, even _I_ barely recognized you."

Cloud buried his hands in his face. Heat licked his neck and burned the tips of his ears. "Can we stop talking about this?" he asked, his voice little more than a mortified squeak. "Please?"

"Sure thing," he replied, still laughing, and then he unbuttoned the last button on his dress shirt. He let the garb fall to a heap to the floor.

And what remained were scars. Long scars, the deep kind that left craters and ripples in his tan skin, and any blush Cloud had went strikingly cold. He had already seen them before back when Zack had decided to try on Madam M's dress, but to see them again…

Cloud tore his gaze away as a new warmth flooded his cheeks: _Shame_. Shame because he knew that Zack got many of those scars from the lab, and probably even more while trying to defend him while he was incapacitated with mako poisoning. Bullet holes, claw wounds, precise knife slits… Zack's muscular back was a canvas of hurt, a map of pain, a story of all the times the world had let him down.

Cloud's eyes pricked, and he quickly turned around before Zack could see.

_I have to do better._

Upset, he pulled off the black shoulder wrap with more force than necessary, then moved on to free himself from the dress' mesh sleeves. It was tight, but he managed well enough. Yet it was only with Zack's help was he able to get the corset loose enough to slip off, and Zack chuckled the entire time he undid the sashed, silky ribbon.

"Now we're even," Zack said as the corset fell heavily to the floor.

Cloud huffed, recalling how he had helped Zack into Madam M's dress, as he kneaded his sore ribs and stumbled out of the thick skirts. Soon he was pulling on his _normal_ clothes, which was such a contrast to the uncomfortable, tight, heavy dress that he almost had to take a moment to breathe.

"You good, Spikey?"

Cloud snapped his eyes open; he hadn't even realized that he had closed them. "I'm fine," he replied instinctively, and then took the makeup removal pad that Zack was holding out to him. It was cold to the touch. "You don't have to… keep worrying about me."

Zack chuckled, but this time the noise sounded strained. "Sorry, force of habit," he said, which had Cloud internally wilting as he scrubbed his face of blush, lipstick, eyeshadow, and whatever else Andrea had put on him. "But seriously, Cloud. _Talk_ to me. It's been a busy day, and I just…" Zack hesitated a moment, then continued, "I want to make sure you're okay."

Cloud's expression dimmed, and he slowly lowered the makeup pad; it was smeared with shades of tan, pink, and black. It _had_ been a busy day. Hell, it had been a busy _few_ days. Just yesterday he had helped Barret and the others blow up a reactor – which felt like a lifetime ago now – only to wake up this very morning in an unfamiliar house filled with unfamiliar people. _And_ _Zack,_ he mentally tacked on, _who apparently hadn't died in Nibelheim after all…_

Cloud opened his eyes, but his mako-stained gaze lingered on the floor.

… _And how quickly things had gone wrong afterwards._

Without thinking, his hand lifted to close around the fabric above his heart. "Busy day," he quietly agreed, then he looked up to Zack with a faint smile. "But I'm okay. Tired," he admitted when Zack's eyes narrowed in disbelief, "but okay."

"Does your head feel fuzzy?"

Cloud shook his head. "Not too much."

"Not _too_ much?"

"The potion helped."

Zack scowled. "That's good… Well, usually I'd give you another potion, but at this point they'd probably do more harm than good." His scowl deepened and he run an impatient hand through his hair, while Cloud hunched his shoulders as if it was entirely his fault. "Honestly, rest is probably the best thing for you right now. Which we'll do as _soon_ as we get back home."

 _Home._ The word once again set off a hollow ache echoing through Cloud's chest, and he shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "Um… Which one?" he asked uncertainly, because he had a feeling that Zack didn't mean Tifa's apartment.

But Zack only stared at him as if he had been struck. "Which one?" he echoed after a lengthy pause.

"Y – Yeah." Cloud had thought that it had been an innocent enough question, but Zack's uncomprehending tone had him questioning that. "Like, Tifa's apartment, or..."

Understanding suddenly lit Zack's expression. "Oh. _Oh._ That's right, you were..." He shook his head with a faint laugh, which had Cloud tilting his head in confusion. "Um, well, I think Sector Seven is closer, so how about we stop there first and drop off Tifa? And then we can go to Aerith's… We can…Oh, _shit."_

Cloud started at the new venom in Zack's tone. "… Zack?"

" _Tseng_. The Turks. They know where Aerith lives." Horror had Zack's eyes widening, and their mako glow burned hot enough to stain his cheeks a brilliant shade of jade. "And Tseng'll be looking for me. _And_ you. So we can't… We can't hide out at her house." He turned around sharply, and his hard footsteps rang dull against the floor he now stared blankly at. "We can't go back. Tseng will find us, and that'll mean that Shinra will find us. And we can't let that happen. I _won't_ let that happen."

Zack continued to stare at the floor, wide-eyed and weaponless, and Cloud didn't know what to do. The intensity in Zack's tone scared him. It promised that horrible things would happen if Shinra found them, and considering how scarred Zack's body was, those things seemed quite horrible indeed.

Cloud swallowed past his sudden fear. "Zack..."

But Zack continued as if he hadn't heard. "We'll figure it out," he stated, more to himself than to Cloud. "We always do. Midgar is a big city, and the Turks can't have eyes _everywhere._ We'll just take our time and figure it out, because you know, you can never be too careful with… with Shinra watching all the time." He suddenly glanced at the corners of the room, stricken. "Gods, what if Corneo installed cameras? Think there's cameras in here?"

 _"Zack._ "

Zack jolted. "What? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Are _you_ okay?" Cloud suddenly wished he was tall enough to look Zack in the eyes. "You seem… I don't know…" He fumbled for the right word, and eventually settled on, "Agitated."

"Agitated?" Zack blinked and then smiled, all teeth and sharp edges. "I'm not agitated. I'm great. We saved your girl -" Cloud's cheeks warmed, "- got the bad guy, and now we all get to leave in one piece. Finding out where to stay the night will be a cinch. We'll figure it out. So, yeah. I'm good. Are _you_ good?"

"You already asked me that," Cloud told him with a frown, and Zack made a strangled sound more akin to ripping metal than any sort of chuckle. "But… But Zack, if you weren't okay… You'd tell me, right? Like I know that I'm sick an' all, but -"

"You're not sick," Zack interrupted.

"I have mako poisoning," Cloud deadpanned. "But even despite that, would you still… I don't know, tell me if you're not okay?"

For a long moment, no one spoke. Zack only stared at Cloud with a mixture of bafflement and something a little more broken, and Cloud forced himself to meet his gaze despite the embarrassed flush heating his cheeks.

But then Zack smiled.

"I forget sometimes," he hesitantly began, "that you've really woken up." He looked as if he was going to say more, but then he only shook his head with a crooked smile and reached forward to ruffle Cloud's hair.

 _"Hey."_ Cloud batted Zack's hands away with a furious scowl. "I'm being _serious..._ "

But the words died in his throat, because there were _tears_ in Zack's eyes. Actual tears, and it suddenly struck Cloud that he had never seen Zack cry. He didn't even really think that Zack _could_ cry. After all, Zack was also the most positive, optimistic person that Cloud knew, and the Zack he remembered would have laughed, or made a joke, or… _something._

But then he had to remind himself that his memories were five years out of date, and a lot had happened since then.

"Um… Zack..." Cloud hated how creaky his voice sounded. "Are you -"

Zack ruffled his hair again, which effectively cut him off. "Yeah, I'm good, I promise. Sorry for losing it for a second there," he added, and then he laughed. Something within Cloud loosened at the sound of it. "I'm fine. It's just been a long day."

Cloud flicked his eyes up. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," Zack promised, and he gave Cloud's mused hair one last good ruffle before he dropped his hand. Cloud immediately attempted to straighten it. "Anyway, want to join the girls? I bet they've finished changing by now, and then we can go… somewhere." Zack's expression dimmed, but his cheerful persona returned a moment later. "Maybe Tifa will let us stay with her," he added as he reached for his Buster Sword.

Cloud's expression softened. "She would."

"Well, someone sounds confident," Zack teased. "And… don't worry, okay? If there's something wrong, I'll tell you. Like how I told you all that stuff this morning. I promise."

Cloud's gaze dropped down to the floor. Something about Zack's earlier behavior still had him on edge, but… _If Zack promised…_ "Okay," he finally relented, and he raised his gaze. "Ready to go?" he asked with a flimsy smile.

Zack sighed. " _So_ ready," he muttered, and he adjusted the Buster Sword on his back before reaching down to grab his box of Aerith's letters. Soon the two of them were heading back to the Corneo's bedroom. Just as Zack had predicted, both Tifa and Aerith had already changed; Aerith was wearing her pink dress and red jacket from earlier that morning, while Tifa had donned Madam M's more dressy attire. The latter looked distinctly uncomfortable in the pastel outfit, and Cloud's cheeks reddened as he watched her adjust the tight fit of her blouse.

Leslie pushed himself off the wall when he noticed Zack and Cloud enter the room. "Finally," he muttered. "Thought the Don would wake up before you guys got here."

"That's not our fault. The makeup wouldn't come off," Zack protested.

Cloud glanced at him from the corner of his eye. The makeup had come off just fine, but if Zack didn't want to mention their talk – or his realization that they couldn't go back to Aerith's house – then Cloud also wouldn't mention it.

"Oh, Cloud!" Aerith suddenly bounded up to him, effectively distracting him from his thoughts. "Check out what Tifa and I found for you!" She held out her hand, and Cloud stilled as she realized that she was holding a pistol. Zack went pale beside him. "We found it in Corneo's nightstand. Lucky us, right?"

The pistol had clearly been heavily customized. Instead of sporting a single barrel, this one had three barrels along with three matching cylinders – all of which had already been loaded with bullets, Cloud noticed after a brief inspection. The grip was made of abalone shell, and the pistol's solid black finish was interlaced with arching silver. A gray wolf formed the forward sight.

"This is nice," he admitted as he accepted the gun and shifted it back and forth his hands.

"Definitely too nice for Corneo," Tifa added.

Cloud nodded his agreement as he relished the feeling of cold metal against his palms. It felt good to hold a weapon again, to know that he could _defend_ himself again, and he gripped the pistol a little tighter as his earlier thought once again passed through his mind:

_I have to do better._

"Cloud, are you sure you want a gun?" Zack asked. His voice sounded strained, maybe even a little nervous. "You won't need it."

Cloud aimed the pistol at the wall and, peering down the forward sight, closed a single eye. The world shifted into shades of green. "I want it," he affirmed.

"But you won't _need_ it," Zack said again. "I will -"

He was abruptly cut off by Aerith's finger against his lips. "Zack, it's fine," she told him quietly. She was clearly trying to keep Cloud from overhearing, so he pretended to be too focused on the pistol to pay attention. "Remember what we talked about earlier, with the whole _normal_ thing?"

Cloud's ears pricked. _Normal thing?_

"I mean, yeah, but..." Zack rubbed the back of his neck. "Ugh, whatever. Okay. Okay, fine. Cloud gets a gun."

"I guess now would be a good time to tell you that I found a quarterstaff and a Fire materia?"

There was a pause, then: "A _what?"_

 _"_ But look, the staff's adjustable. See? It gets small!"

"No no no, Aerith, you can't fight -"

There was a mute smack as Aerith flicked his nose. "Watch me," she stated. "But don't worry, I'll be fine. I'll leave all of the big ones for you, okay?"

Zack made a faint noise in response, and when it became clear that their conversation was over, Cloud finally lowered the pistol.

"Well?" Tifa asked beside him. "Like it?"

Cloud nodded. "I do. It has a nice weight."

Tifa beamed, as if she had picked it out special for him instead of stolen it out of a slum lord's nightstand. "That's what I thought, too."

A harsh sigh echoed through the room. "For fuck's sake, you all talk too much," Leslie muttered, then said a bit loud, "Move away from the bed. I'm going to open the entrance."

Cloud did as ordered, as did the rest of the party, and watched as Leslie reached towards the dragon hovering the bed's headrest, grabbed its left claw, and pulled down. There was a harsh clank. Gears groaned and ground together. Cloud placed a steadying hand on the wall as the ground rumbled beneath their feet, and then without warning, a piece of the floor fell away to reveal a secret access at the foot of the bed. A dingy ladder led down into the murky dark.

Aerith looked delighted. "Awesome," she grinned.

Tifa, on the other hand, looked significantly less delighted. "This goes to the sewers," she said with a glance towards Leslie. "Doesn't it?"

"That's right." Leslie strode forward until he could look down into the hole. Humid air wafted up from the entrance, and he wrinkled his nose against the rotted smell that began to fill the room. "It won't be pretty, but it'll get you to where you need to go."

"Sounds like shit," Zack said, and then he laughed at his own pun.

Tifa followed Leslie's gaze with a frown. "It's… dark, isn't it?" she noted after a pause.

Cloud silently agreed. Not only was it dark, but a humid mist obscured the floor from view and the smell was almost enough to make him want to risk going to Sector Seven through the streets, Turks be damned.

"So." Aerith glanced at the rest of the team. "Who wants to go first?"

"I vote Zack," Cloud stated. Zack laughed.

"I don't care who goes first, as long as you all just go," Leslie added with a hopeless air about him.

"I also vote Zack," Aerith said, and she gave Zack a pat on the back. "Go on, Mr. SOLDIER. Clear the way for the rest of us."

Zack made an indignant sound. "I would have anyway," he announced, but then he paused as he grabbed the railings. "Thanks, Leslie," he said before he began to descend into the sewer system. "For everything."

"Don't mention it," Leslie replied with a shrug. "Just leave."

Zack emitted a bark of laughter, and before long the sound of his boots hitting the floor echoed up from the dark.

"All right, Cloud." Aerith glanced towards him with a grin. "Your turn."

"We'll be right behind you," Tifa promised.

Cloud grimaced. He _really_ didn't want to climb down, but because the only other option was to stay here in Corneo's bedroom…

He shoved his new pistol into the back of his pants – safety on – and began the slow climb down the ladder. The rungs were damp against his bare palms and rusted iron flaked against his grasp, but before long his shoes were touching the hard ground.

He blinked into the dim light. Water trickled down the stone walls and pooled onto the floor in tepid puddles, and the cracked tiles beneath his feet exposed the mossy, moldy dirt beneath, while pipes – massive, concrete structures that were large enough for a car to drive though – poked through the walls like oversized IV needles.

Cloud tried to take light breathes as he made his way towards Zack, who was squinting into the gloom with a slight frown.

"What is it?" Cloud asked, referring to Zack's pensive expression. He could hear the ladder clanging behind him as Aerith made her way down, followed closely by Tifa.

Zack's lips pursed. "Dunno," he finally replied, "but something's… off."

Cloud crossed his arms over his chest as Aerith's footsteps pattered towards them. "Like?"

"…Dunno." Zack's gaze landed on a metal gate set in front of them, and he slowly reached over his shoulders for the hilt of his sword. "It's just off."

Aerith followed his gaze, eyes narrowed against the dark. "What's off?"

"Is something wrong?" Tifa asked as she reached the bottom and joined the party. Cloud shot her a wane smile when she stopped beside him.

"Zack's SOLDIER senses are tingling," Aerith told her in a conspiratorial whisper.

Zack huffed. "They're _instincts,"_ he told them without glancing their way. Instead he focused on the giant metal grate in front of them, eyes narrowed and hand wrapped around the hilt of the Buster Sword. "Honed on the _battlefield_ after _years of training,_ thank you very much."

Cloud's chest panged then, but he wasn't entirely sure why. Maybe it was because he couldn't tell _anything_ was wrong – besides the rancid sewer smells of course, and the crusty mascara he hadn't been able to wipe off entirely – or maybe it was because Tifa was standing close enough that if he reached his hand out just a fraction, their fingertips would brush together, and he wasn't sure if he could handle that.

"Do you hear that?" Zack asked.

All Cloud could hear was the heavy thuds of his beating heart as he kept his focus on Tifa. Her nails were painted a bright pink, the same shade as the flowers on her earlier dress, and they faintly trembled. His brow furrowed. _She's shaking,_ he realized, and his gaze flicked up to her face in silent question. But there were no answers etched onto her features; her eyes were focused straight ahead, her lips were pressed together in a stubborn line, and her shoulders were rigid beneath her pastel blouse. She was the picture of determination.

And yet her hands were shaking.

"Spikey," Zack enunciated, "do you hear that?"

But Cloud was still distracted. He suddenly had the wild notion that he should hold her hands, that that would be the good and proper thing to do considering the circumstances. She'd appreciate it, right? The reminder that he was here for her? Or would she get upset that he noticed? Or maybe she'd be upset that he thought that she would even need his help. After all, she hadn't needed him so far… Why would now be any different?

 _It wouldn't be,_ Cloud thought glumly, and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Cloud," Zack said again, "I'm _asking_ you -"

"I don't hear anything," Cloud interrupted, and there must have been something in his tone because Zack was suddenly turning. Concern brightened his mako-stained eyes.

"What is it?" Zack asked. "Did you hear anything? See anything?"

" _No_."

Cloud's tone was more bitter than he intended, but it was too late to take it back. He could only glower at his shoes as Zack blinked in surprise. It was only after a heavy pause that he replied, "Well, if you do notice anything, let me know, okay?"

"…Okay," Cloud promised. He could feel Tifa giving him an odd look beside him, but he pretended not to notice.

Zack nodded. "Thanks, buddy," he said, and then he turned back to the grate. He stared at it a moment longer, but after a while he slowly lowered his hand from the Buster Sword's hilt. "Well," he continued, "Guess it was just a false alarm. How about we sta -"

\- but then a horrendous squealing noise cut through the room, interrupting him. The iron gate was forced open; not with chains and ropes, but with a flash of claws and teeth and horns. A single red eye blinked at them from behind the broken iron bars.

"Guys?" Aerith breathed. She was holding her staff with a white-knuckled grip. "What's that?"

A roar burst forth from the dark chamber behind the gate, and then a large shadow shifted; _No_ , _not a shadow,_ Cloud realized a moment later. _A monster._

Tifa's raised fists lowered a fraction. "It's huge," she murmured with wide-eyed horror.

There was another shriek of ripping metal, and then the creature itself lumbered into the dim light.

Cloud sucked in breath as adrenaline pumped through his body, and the world shifted into shades of green. Information slowly filtered into his cracked mind; he recognized the monster as an _Abzu,_ a beast that had once hailed from the western continent's costal plains until it had been hunted to near extinction for its horns. He also knew that it had incredibly thick skin, was quick on its hoofed back legs, and quickly killed its prey using its poisonous forked tongue – a tongue that now dragged against the floor as it dangled between its wickedly sharp teeth.

Long story short, the monster was _shockingly_ difficult to kill.

Cloud snapped his pistol up, and the wolf-tipped sight did not waver in the dark. "Zack," he hissed as thick beads of drool dripped from the Abzu's mouth. "What should we do?"

Zack seemed entirely unfazed by the monster's appearance. His expression, a cross between determination and something else, could have been carved from stone. Not even his muscles quivered as he held the Buster Sword in front of him, and Cloud felt another pang; but unlike before, this time he immediately recognized the sudden ache as _jealousy._ The realization had him going cold. Zack was his best friend; Zack had even called him his _brother,_ a term that even now had Cloud's vision going watery _._ Not only had Zack promised to bring him to Gongaga to meet his family – to even _live_ with them if that's what Cloud wanted – but Zack had also saved his life more times that he could remember.

_I'm horrible._

The thought slipped across his mind, and his lips lifted in a bitter smile. The tip of his pistol wavered in the air.

 _And I have to do better,_ he reminded himself, and he slowly exhaled. Tension leaked from his body. His finger pressed against the trigger, and he could feel its slight resistance as he added pressure, but then Zack held up a single fist: the infantry command to _stop,_ which had Cloud instinctively freezing in place.

"What?" Cloud asked, his voice a low murmur. His tongue rounded out the hard _T_ so it didn't make as much noise, and when he glanced towards Zack, he was surprised to see that the other's expression had shifted from grim determination to something more akin to pity.

"It's chained," Zack eventually pointed out. The Abzu cocked its head to the side as he slowly lowered his weapon. Sure enough, thick metal chains had been wrapped around the monster's feet, and a similar collar had been clasped around its neck with a metal cord dangled below it. "It's coloration is also off. It should be more of a sky-blue color, and its horns should be branched to show its age. But instead they're…" Zack took a step forward, "… not."

"Zack, be careful," Aerith whispered.

Cloud's aim didn't deviate from the Abzu's heart, just in case it suddenly decided it was done standing there and wanted to rip their heads off – _Or worse,_ he thought dimly. "We should leave," he finally said with a quick glance towards Zack. "What if it gets bored?"

"Or hungry?" Tifa added nervously.

For a long moment, the only sound was moisture dripping down the walls, then: "But it's chained," Zack replied simply, _brokenly,_ and it was then Cloud noticed that Zack's gaze was a hundred miles away and buried five years in the past.

And _that's_ when he got it. He suddenly understood with such crystalline clarity that it hurt.

 _The Abzu is a prisoner here_ , he realized, and: _We used to be prisoners, too._

"Cloud, did you know that we actually saw a herd of these guys near the Mithril Mines?" Zack asked, effectively snapping Cloud out of his thoughts. "They live in the swamps down there and feed on burrowing animals, hence the long tongue. They're also fairly docile, and they prefer being in large herds." Zack slowly set the Buster Sword on the floor, then stood back up with both hands raised. Pity lingered in his expression. "I wonder how long this one has lived down here," he continued softly. "Years, definitely. Maybe ten? Or twenty? …And we only had to do five." He tentatively reached a single gloved hand forward, fingers down and wrist lifted, and the Abzu craned its neck to sniff at his palm. "I'm sorry," he whispered, addressing the Abzu now as its horns pulsed a dim blue color. "People can suck sometimes, can't they?"

The Abzu made a small sound, one far too delicate for such a large creature.

"They really can." Zack's voice barely audible in the dim quiet, and with that, he slowly reached down for his sword.

Cloud's eyes went wide as panic trilled through him. "Zack, _wait_."

"Relax." The blade's edge scraped across the stone as Zack took a step closer to the Abzu. "I'm just gonna free it."

Tifa's hand snapped up to grip Cloud's sleeve. "Right here?" she asked, sounding strangled. Her hold tightened on Cloud's arm, and Cloud pretended not to notice. "Right in front of us?"

"Don't worry, it won't hurt anyone," Aerith promised. She seemed to be standing a little taller now, and the look in her eyes was brighter and stronger than before. "It's just… scared."

"It wants to be free," Zack stated, and with that he cut the Abzu's chains off one by one. The heavy links fell to the floor with a dull thud and exposed the skin previously hidden, which was pale, rippled with scars, and oozed a mixture of clear liquid and blood.

Cloud's stomach twisted at the sight of the wounds, and he had to look away. The gun still trembled in his hands. He wasn't entirely sure why.

The Abzu didn't seem accustomed to the lack of weight around its neck. It shook its head, pale horns bobbing in the dark, and when it didn't hear the clanking iron it then arched its back and roared in freedom. The sound reverberated up the walls and the floor rumbled with its force, and Cloud's arm flew up to futilely block its cry. His eyes stung; not from fumes, but from something far deeper, an ache that had his other hand twisting the fabric above his heart.

"Be free, little guy," Zack murmured.

The Abzu sniffed the air, and then it was running. It rammed through a nearby brick wall before it turned the corner and charged deeper into the sewers, bellowing all the while, a happy sound that had goosebumps peppering Cloud's skin.

For a long moment, no one spoke. Silence reigned in the dimly lit gloom until Tifa finally murmured, "There it goes."

"Why do you think it was down here?" Aerith asked.

Zack grimaced. "Corneo probably fed it his failed brides," he replied with brutal honesty, and then he dragged his gaze towards the ceiling. Cloud looked upwards as well, and he could just make out the faint outline of the trap door Leslie had opened for them. Light seeped in through the thin cracks. "Don't recall Leslie mentioning that fun little fact, though."

Tifa's expression hardened. "Do you think he did that on purpose?"

Zack continued to stare at the ceiling, the mako in his eyes burning. "Guess we'll have to ask him the next time we see him," he responded, and after a pause briefly smiled at them before he made his way towards the ruined brick wall. "Either way, we need to start moving. The further we are from Wall Market, the better."

"Think it's safe out there?" Tifa wondered as the rest of the party followed him.

Beyond the broken brick wall was a tunnel. This one was far wider and slightly better lit, for better or worse. Murky water trickled down the path's center while pale lanterns hung against the walls. Pipes snaked down from the ceiling to spew brackish liquid onto the brick floor. Questionable contents splattered the tiles.

Zack wrinkled his nose. "Yeah, it's safe enough," he finally replied, then added under his breath, "I think."

Aerith's lips thinned as she inspected the tunnel. "What do you think will happen to the Abzu? Think it'll escape somewhere?"

Cloud's expression dimmed. _I don't think so,_ he wanted to say, but he held his tongue. Some things were better left unsaid.

But then Zack said with ragged certainty, "No." Water splashed beneath his boots as he made his way deeper into the tunnel. "It'll die down here. It's weak from captivity and wouldn't know how to survive in the wild anyway, even if it did somehow make it out of the city. But," he added after a pause, "at least it won't die a prisoner."

Aerith made a small noise, and she reached over and gently clasped Zack's hand in her own. He jerked, surprised at the sudden contact, but then she smiled up at him. He hesitantly returned her expression, but there was something sadder in his smile, a little more brittle, and his lips seemed bruised as he mouthed, _Thank you._

Cloud, suddenly feeling like he was intruding on something private, dropped his gaze to his hands. He stared at them a moment. Fresh callouses were developing on his palms and the pink nail polish was chipping at the edges, and he resisted the urge to pick at them as his gaze once again returned to Tifa's hands. They swayed a bit as she walked. Her slender fingers were lightly curved, her knuckles were nicked and bruised from her earlier fights, and there was a certain dangerous grace to them; they were equally capable of caressing a cheek and punching one, a fact that Cloud was all too aware of.

"Cloud?" Tifa's soft voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and damn it all, he just about jumped. "Something wrong?"

Cloud shoved his hands into his pockets to distract from his heating blush. "Nope," he replied, and soon their dull footsteps and the dripping pipes were the only sounds in the Wall Market sewers.

* * *

The Sector Eight slums weren't terrible, as far as slums go. Strung lights dangled across buildings made of cracked plywood and faded tarps, electric wires formed a tangled spiderweb above the dirt road, and old billboards – seemingly ready to snap at any moment – leaned precariously into the street. Radio static hissed out of a cracked windowpane. Fires whipped out of charred trash cans. Neon signs flickered in the dusty dark like fireflies; one would burst briefly with light before going dark, but there was always another one to quickly fill the void.

And yet, despite the dilapidated, worn-down atmosphere, there was a strange homeliness in the air. There were children playing in front of doorways. Flower wreaths – _true_ flowers, instead of the plastic woven things that Cissnei had become accustomed to in upper Midgar – were hung on faded doors. Gray walls had been hidden behind watered-down paint, weeds grew with the cracks in the road, and a few of those brown stalks even supported flimsy leaves.

Cissnei was careful not to crush the bursts of green beneath her shoes as she scanned the road with a practiced eye. Unfortunately for her, black hair wasn't exactly an uncommon feature. Neither was possessing a tall stature, and though Zack's height certainly differentiated him from the crowd, no one here was _that_ tall… so she kept walking, with Zack's old PHS burning a hole through her pocket all the while.

 _I'm betraying the Turks_.

The thought skidded across her mind without warning, and her features tightened a fraction. Not only was she about to betray the Turks, but she was also about to betray _Tseng,_ which was such an abstract concept that she could hardly comprehend it. Lying to his face – pointedly, about agreeing with his plans of using Zack to assassinate President Shinra – was one thing. But to go out of her way to _betray_ him?

Incomprehensible.

And yet here she was, doing exactly that. She tilted her head to the sky; or rather, where the sky had been replaced by metal plates with winking lights, and suddenly – _desperately –_ wished she could see the stars. The stars had always comforted her. They had kept her company when she had been alone, listened her when she cried silently to the night, and guided her when she felt lost. She felt lost now, yet only Shinra's pride and joy – the metal plates that divided the upper and lower sectors – stared down at her, their lights as cold and unfeeling as the company's namesake.

 _No mission is impossible for the Turks,_ she reminded herself, and though she knew that she wouldn't be a Turk much longer – betrayers never lasted very long – she would at least complete her one, final mission:

To ensure that Zack and Cloud would never have to look over their shoulders for Shinra again.

She placed a hand over her heart, as if to lock that small hope away there, when a sudden voice said nearby, _"Have you seen Aerith?"_

Cissnei went cold. _Aerith_ was a name she was acutely familiar with; not only had Zack spoken about her quite a bit back then, but Tseng had also been looking after the young woman in Zack's stead. It also couldn't be understated that Zack had crossed the entirety of Gaia to be reunited with Aerith.

 _Therefore,_ Cissnei thought as she moved to the side of road to retie her shoelaces, _it's safe to assume that wherever Aerith is, Zack will be also._

Stooping down, she shot a quick glance towards the source of the voice. A blond, thirty-something woman was standing outside of what appeared to be a school or an orphanage, and she was talking to a dark-haired, younger woman who appeared to be in charge. Children dressed in surprisingly clean clothing ran past as they spoke.

The dark haired woman crossed her arms over her chest. _"No, I haven't,"_ she replied. It was a lie, judging by the slight flutter of her voice and her tone's tight pitch, and Cissnei suppressed a scowl.

 _"Really?"_ The other woman scowled. _"She said that she was going to Sector Seven, but she hasn't come back. It's past sunset, and I -"_

But Cissnei didn't bother to stop and listen to the rest. After retying her boots that didn't need retying, she got abruptly to her feet, dusted off her pants, and began walking towards Sector Seven. The strung lights lit her features various pastel shades as she passed beneath them.

 _I'm on my way, Zack,_ she thought. Zack's PHS weighed heavily in her pocket, and on instinct she tilted her head towards the sky, towards the dark expanse where stars were supposed to be shining.

Yet there were no stars to be found.

* * *

Elena peeked out from behind the building, her brown eyes narrowed against the lit lamp hanging above her.

_So, Cissnei's on the move again, huh?_

Cissnei – _no,_ her _target –_ was heading out of Sector Eight the exact way she came in, which was annoying considering that it had been a pain to go unnoticed through the dirty slums the _first_ time around. _But that doesn't matter,_ Elena quickly reminded herself. A Turk wouldn't complain about something so… so _trivial._ Besides, Cissnei was acting suspicious; between her odd behavior during meetings, looking through a KIA'ed First Class SOLDIER's stuff, and now sneaking around the slums, Elena just _knew_ that Cissnei had to be up to something.

And unfortunately for Cissnei, Elena had something to prove.

Her hands tightened into fists at her sides, and after an appropriate amount of time, she ducked out from behind the building to move into another structure's shadow. Her heart pounded in her chest. If she could prove to Tseng that Cissnei wasn't acting in the Turks best interest – if she could prove to Tseng that she was _better_ than Cissnei – then not only she could prove that she deserved to be part of the Turks, but she'd also prove to Tseng that she was reliable. It was an open secret amongst the Turks that she was an obligatory hire – her elder sister Gun had been a Turk once, and had vouched for her hire on her behalf – and because of that, she didn't have as much respect as the other members.

 _But this will change all that,_ she thought with a bitter smile, because come on… to be ranked lower than _Reno,_ of all people? Well, that was perfectly unacceptable. Maybe she wasn't as good as Tseng himself, but she was _certainly_ better than the notorious red-haired playboy.

And she was determined to prove it, too.

She kept to the shadows as she followed Cissnei to Sector Seven. She stayed behind every building, mingled with every crowd, and even pretended to order a drink from an outdoor cafe while avoiding Cissnei's scrutinous gaze at the streets. Even better, Cissnei's passing glance seemed to overlook her every time, which only bolstered Elena's confidence more.

 _I can do this,_ she knew, because she could stay unnoticed from someone as experienced as _Cissnei…_

She couldn't suppress her grin as Cissnei, completely unaware of her tag, slowly ascended the stairs into some Sector Seven bar. Elena made a mental note of the name: _Seventh Heaven._

Once upon a time, Tseng had told her that the local watering holes were the best place to get information. _Which means that Cissnei wants to know something,_ Elena thought as she, after a lengthy pause, hunkered down beneath one of the cracked windows. _But what?_

That was the million gil question, wasn't it? Because if she found out what Cissnei wanted to know, and if it was something worth reporting to Tseng, then that would mean…

… Well, that would mean everything, now wouldn't it? So Elena flipped open her PHS, readied the voice recorder, and began her long wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the Wall Market arc is winding to a close, which is why this chapter may read slower than usual; right now, I'm basically doing my best to tie the Wall Market arc in a pretty little bow, and then we'll set ourselves nicely for the next arc and eventual end of Halcyon Days. I also really wanted to address Zack's stress and anxiety from another POV, and also begin introducing how the party dynamic works when they're all together. And, of course, there's Cissnei and Elena's side story as well, which I won't go into just yet 😅
> 
> Anyway, that's the gist of it! To summarize, this chapter is basically to get from point A to point B, and hopefully none of you found it too boring? 😅 If you'd like writing updates and story previews, feel free to follow [my twitter](https://twitter.com/Rand0mSmil3z) \- everything gets posted there first 😊
> 
> Until next time, have a wonderful rest of your day / week / month, and I wish you nothing but the best 😊


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